THE  RED  HAND 
OF  ULSTER 


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LALAGE'S  LOVERS 
SPANISH  GOLD 
THE  SEARCH  PARTY 
THE  SIMPKINS  PLOT 
THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE 
PRISCILLA'S  SPIES 

THE    RED     HAND 
OF    ULSTER 


GEORGE    H.   DORAN    COMPANY 
NEW    YORK 


THE  RED  HAND 
OF  ULSTER 


BY 

G.  A.  BIRMINGHAM 

AUTHOR  OF  "  SPANISH  GOLD,"  "  THE  MAJOR'S  NIECE. 
"PRISCILLA'S  SPIES,"  ETC. 


HODDER  &  STOUGHTON 

NEW  YORK 
GEORGE  H.  DORAN  COMPANY 


Copyright,  1912, 
By  George  H.  Doran  Company 


PREFATORY  NOTE 

IN  a  book  of  this  kind  some  of  the  characters  are 
necessarily  placed  in  the  positions  occupied  by  liv- 
ing men;  but  no  character  is  in  any  way  copied 
from  life,  and  no  character  must  be  taken  as  repre- 
senting any  real  person.  Nor  must  the  opinions  of 
Lord  Kilmore  of  Errigal,  the  imaginary  narrator  of 
the  tale,  be  regarded  as  those  of  the  Author. 

G.  A.  B. 


2130320 


INTRODUCTORY  NOTE 

BY 
LORD   KILMORE   OF  ERRIGAL 

THE  events  recorded  in  this  chapter  and  the  next  did 
not  fall  under  my  own  observation.  I  derived  my 
knowledge  of  them  from  various  sources,  chiefly  from 
conversations  with  Bob  Power,  who  had,  as  will  ap- 
pear, first-hand  knowledge.  In  the  third  chapter  I 
begin  my  own  personal  narrative  of  the  events  which 
led  up  to  the  final  struggle  of  Ulster  against  Home 
Rule  and  of  the  struggle  itself.  Accidents  of  one  kind 
or  another,  the  accidents  of  the  situation  of  Kilmore 
Castle,  the  accident  of  Bob  Power's  connection  with 
my  daughter  Marion,  the  accidents  of  my  social  po- 
sition and  personal  tastes,  have  placed  me  in  a  position 
to  give  a  very  full  account  of  what  actually  happened. 
The  first  two  chapters  of  this  book  will  therefore  be 
written  in  the  impersonal  manner  of  the  ordinary  his- 
tory; I  myself  occupying  the  position  of  unseen  spec- 
tator. The  rest  of  the  book  is  largely  founded  upon 
the  diary  which  I  actually  kept. 


THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER 


CHAPTER  I 

IT  was  in  1908  that  Joseph  Peterson  Conroy  burst 
upon  London  in  the  full  magnificence  of  his 
astounding  wealth.  English  society  was,  and  had  been 
for  many  years,  accustomed  to  the  irruption  of  mil- 
lionaires, American  or  South  African.  Our  aristocracy 
has  learnt  to  pay  these  potentates  the  respect  which  is 
their  due.  Well-born  men  and  women  trot  along  Park 
Lane  in  obedience  to  the  hooting  calls  of  motor  horns. 
No  one  considers  himself  degraded  by  grovelling  before 
a  plutocrat. 

It  has  been  for  some  time  difficult  to  startle  London 
by  a  display  of  mere  wealth.  Men  respect  more  than 
ever  fortunes  which  are  reckoned  in  millions,  though 
they  have  become  too  common  to  amaze.  But  Joseph 
Peterson  Conroy,  when  he  came,  excited  a  great  deal 
of  interest.  In  the  first  place  his  income  was  enormous, 
larger,  it  was  said,  than  the  income  of  any  other  living 
man.  In  the  next  place  he  spent  it  very  splendidly. 
There  were  no  entertainments  given  in  London  during 
the  years  1909,  1910,  and  1911,  equal  in  extravagance 
to  those  which  Conroy  gave.  He  outdid  the  "  freak 
dinners  "  of  New  York.  He  invented  freak  dinners 
of  his  own.  His  horses  —  animals  which  he  bought 
at  enormous  prices  —  won  the  great  races.  His  yachts 

I 


2  THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER 

flew  the  white  ensign  of  the  Royal  Yacht  Squadron. 
His  gifts  to  fashionable  charities  were  princely.  Eng- 
lish society  fell  at  his  feet  and  worshipped  him.  The 
most  exclusive  clubs  were  honoured  by  his  desire  of 
membership.  Women  whose  fathers  and  husbands 
bore  famous  names  were  proud  to  boast  of  his  friend- 
ship. 

It  cannot  be  said  that  Conroy  abused  either  his  po- 
sition or  his  opportunities.  He  had  won  his  great  wealth 
honestly  —  that  is  to  say  without  robbing  any  one  ex- 
cept other  robbers,  and  only  robbing  them  in  ways 
permitted  by  American  law.  He  used  what  he  had 
won  honourably  enough.  He  neither  bought  the  fa- 
vours of  the  women  who  thronged  his  entertainments ; 
nor  degraded,  more  than  was  necessary,  the  men  who 
sought  benefits  from  him.  For  a  time,  for  nearly  four 
years,  he  thoroughly  enjoyed  himself,  exulting  with 
boyish  delight  in  his  own  splendour.  Then  he  began 
to  get  restless.  The  things  he  did,  the  people  he  knew, 
ceased  to  interest  him.  It  was  early  in  1911  that  the 
crisis  came;  and  before  the  season  of  that  year  was 
over  Conroy  had  disappeared  from  London.  His  name 
still  appeared  occasionally  in  the  columns  which  the 
newspapers  devote  to  fashionable  intelligence.  But 
the  house  in  Park  Lane  —  the  scene  of  many  magnifi- 
cent entertainments  —  was  sold.  The  dinner  parties, 
balls  and  card  parties  ceased ;  and  Conroy  entered  upon 
what  must  have  been  the  most  exciting  period  of  his 
life. 

Bob  Power  —  no  one  ever  called  him  Robert  —  be- 
longed to  an  old  and  respected  Irish  family,  being  a 
younger  son  of  General  Power  of  Kilfenora.  He  was 


THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER  3 

educated  at  Harrow  and  afterwards  at  Trinity  College. 
He  was  called  to  the  Irish  bar  and  might  have  achieved 
in  time  the  comfortable  mediocrity  of  a  County  Court 
judgeship  if  he  had  not  become  Conroy's  private  sec- 
retary. The  post  was  secured  for  him  by  an  uncle 
who  had  known  Conroy  in  New  York  in  the  days 
before  he  became  a  millionaire,  while  it  was  still  possi- 
ble for  an  ordinary  man  to  do  him  a  favour.  Bob  ac- 
cepted the  post  because  everybody  said  he  would  be  a 
fool  to  refuse  it.  He  did  not  much  like  writing  letters. 
The  making  out  of  schemes  for  the  arrangements  of 
Conroy's  guests  at  the  more  formal  dinner  parties  wor- 
ried him.  The  general  supervision  of  the  upper  serv- 
ants was  no  delight  to  him.  But  he  did  all  these  things 
fairly  well,  and  his  unfailing  good  spirits  carried  him 
safely  through  periods  of  very  tiresome  duty.  He  be- 
came, in  spite  of  the  twenty-five  years'  difference  of  age 
between  him  and  his  patron,  the  intimate  friend  of 
Joseph  Peterson  Conroy. 

It  was  to  Bob  that  Conroy  confided  the  fact  that 
he  was  tired  of  the  life  of  a  leader  of  English  society. 
The  two  men  were  sitting  together  in  the  smoking  room 
at  one  o'clock  in  the  morning  after  one  of  Conroy's 
most  magnificent  entertainments. 

"  I'm  damned  well  sick  of  all  this,"  said  Conroy  sud- 
denly. 

"So  am  I/'  said  Bob. 

Bob  Power  was  a  man  of  adventurous  disposition. 
He  had  a  reputation  in  Connacht  as  a  singularly  bold 
rider  to  hounds.  The  story  of  his  singlehanded  cruise 
round  Ireland  in  a  ten  tonner  will  be  told  among  yachts- 
men until  his  son  does  something  more  extravagantly 


4  THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER 

idiotic.  The  London  season  always  bored  him.  The 
atmosphere  of  Conroy's  house  in  Park  Lane  stifled 
him. 

"  Is  there  any  one  thing  left  in  this  rotten  old  world," 
said  Conroy,  "  that's  worth  doing  ?  " 

In  Bob's  opinion  there  were  several  things  very 
well  worth  doing.  He  suggested  one  of  them  at  once. 

"  Let's  get  out  the  Finola,"  he  said,  "  and  go  for  a 
cruise.  We've  never  done  the  South  Sea  Islands." 

The  Finola  was  the  largest  of  Conroy's  yachts,  a 
handsome  vessel  of  something  over  a  thousand  tons. 

"  Cruising  in  the  Finola"  said  Conroy,  "  is  no  earthly 
good  to  me.  What  I  want  is  something  that  will  put 
me  into  a  nervous  sweat,  the  same  as  I  was  when  I 
was  up  against  Ikenstein  and  the  railway  bosses.  My 
nerves  were  like  damned  fiddle  strings  for  a  fortnight 
when  I  didn't  know  whether  I  was  going  to  come  out 
a  pauper  or  the  owner  of  the  biggest  pile  mortal  man 
ever  handled." 

Bob  knew  nothing  of  Ikenstein  or  the  methods  by 
which  the  pile  had  been  wrested  from  him  and  his  com- 
panions, but  he  did  know  the  sensations  which  Con- 
roy described.  He,  himself,  arrived  at  them  by  hang- 
ing on  to  a  sea  anchor  in  a  gale  of  wind  off  the  Galway 
coast,  or  pushing  a  vicious  horse  at  a  nasty  jump. 
Nervous  sweat,  stretched  nerves  and  complete  uncer- 
tainty about  the  immediate  future  afford  the  same  de- 
light however  you  get  at  them.  He  sympathized  with 
Conroy. 

"  You  might  fit  out  a  ship  or  two  and  try  exploring 
round  the  South  Pole,"  Bob  said.  "They've  got  the 
thing  itself  of  course,  but  there  must  be  lots  of  places 
still  undiscovered  in  the  neighbourhood.  I  should 


THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER  5 

think  that  hummocking  along  over  the  ice  floes  in  a  dog 
sledge  must  be  pretty  thrilling." 

Conroy  sighed. 

"  I'm  too  fat,"  he  said,  "  and  I'm  too  darned  soft. 
The  kind  of  life  I've  led  for  the  last  four  years  isn't 
good  training  for  camping  out  on  icebergs  and  feeding 
on  whale's  blubber." 

Bob  smiled.  Conroy  was  a  very  fat  man.  A  camp- 
ing party  on  an  iceberg  would  be  likely  to  end  in  some 
whale  eating  his  blubber. 

"  I  didn't  mean  you  to  go  yourself,"  said  Bob. 

"  Oh !  I  see.  I'm  to  fit  out  the  expedition  and  you 
are  to  go  in  command.  I  don't  quite  see  where  the 
fun  would  come  in  for  me.  It  wouldn't  excite  me  any 
to  hear  of  your  shooting  Esquimaux  and  penguins. 
I  shouldn't  care  enough  whether  you  lived  or  were 
froze  to  get  any  excitement  out  of  a  show  of  that 
kind." 

"  We'd  call  it  '  The  Joseph  P.  Conroy  Expedition," 
said  Bob ;  "  and  the  newspapers  — " 

"  Thanks.  But  I'm  pretty  well  fed  up  with  news- 
paper tosh.  The  press  has  boosted  me  ever  since  I 
landed  in  this  country,  and  I'd  just  as  soon  they  stopped 
now  as  started  fresh." 

Bob  relinquished  the  idea  of  a  Polar  expedition  with 
a  sigh. 

It  was  Conroy  himself  who  made  the  next  sugges- 
tion. 

"  If  politics  weren't  such  a  rotten  game  — " 

Bob  did  not  feel  attracted  to  political  life ;  but  he  was 
loyal  to  his  patron. 

"  dithering,"  he  said,  "  was  talking  to  me  to-night. 
You  know  the  man  I  mean,  Sir  Samuel  Clithering. 


6  THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER 

He's  not  in  the  Cabinet,  but  he's  what  I'd  call  a  pretty 
intimate  hanger  on ;  does  odd  jobs  for  the  Prime  Min- 
ister. He  said  the  interest  of  political  life  was  ab- 
sorbing." 

"  I  shouldn't  care  for  it,"  said  Conroy.  "  After  all, 
what  would  it  be  worth  to  me?  There's  nothing  for 
me  to  gain,  and  I  don't  see  how  I  could  lose  anything. 
It  would  be  like  playing  bridge  for  counters.  They 
might  make  me  a  lord,  of  course.  A  title  is  about 
the  only  thing  I  haven't  got,  but  then  I  don't  want  it." 

"  I  quite  agree  with  you,"  said  Bob.  "  I  merely 
mentioned  politics  because  Dithering  said — " 

"  Besides,"  said  Conroy,  "  it  wouldn't  be  my  politics. 
England  isn't  my  country." 

"  It  would  be  rather  exciting,"  said  Bob,  "  to  run  a 
revolution  somewhere.  There  are  lots  of  small  states, 
in  the  Balkans,  you  know,  which  could  be  turned  in- 
side out  and  upside  down  by  a  man  with  the  amount 
of  money  you  have." 

"  There's  something  in  that  notion,"  said  Conroy. 
"  Get  a  map,  will  you  ?  " 

Bob  Power  did  not  want  to  go  wandering  round  the 
house  at  half-past  one  o'clock  in  the  morning  looking 
for  a  map  of  the  Balkan  States.  It  seemed  to  him 
that  the  idea  —  the  financing  of  a  revolution  was  of 
course  a  joke  —  might  be  worked  out  with  reference 
to  some  country  nearer  at  hand,  the  geographical  con- 
ditions  of  which  would  be  sufficiently  well  known  with- 
out the  aid  of  a  map. 

"Why  not  try  Ireland?"  he  said. 

Then  a  very  curious  thing  happened.  Conroy's  ap- 
pearance, not  merely  his  expression  but  his  actual  fea- 
tures seemed  to  change.  Instead  of  the  shrewd  face 


THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER  7 

of  a  successful  American  financier  Bob  Power  saw 
the  face  of  an  Irish  peasant.  He  was  perfectly  fa- 
miliar with  the  type.  It  was  one  which  he  had  known 
all  his  life.  He  knew  it  at  its  best,  expressive  of  lofty 
idealisms  and  fantastic  dreams  of  things  beyond  this 
world's  experience.  He  knew  it  at  its  worst  too,  when 
narrow  cunning  and  unquenchable  bitterness  transform 
it.  The  change  passed  over  Conroy's  face  and  then 
quickly  passed  away  again. 

"  By  God !  "  said  Conroy,  "  it's  a  great  notion.  To 
buck  against  the  British  Lion !  " 

Bob  remembered  the  things  which  he  had  heard  and 
half  heeded  about  Conroy's  ancestry.  In  1850  another 
Conroy,  a  broken  peasant,  the  victim  of  evil  fate  and 
gross  injustice,  had  left  Ireland  in  an  emigrant  ship 
with  a  ragged  wife  and  four  half  starved  children  cling- 
ing to  him,  with  an  unquenchable  hatred  of  England 
in  his  heart.  The  hate,  it  appeared,  had  lived  on  in 
his  son,  had  broken  out  again  in  a  grandson,  dominating 
the  cynical  cosmopolitanism  of  the  financial  magnate. 
Bob  was  vaguely  uneasy.  He  did  not  like  the  expres- 
sion he  had  seen  on  Conroy's  face.  He  did  not  like  the 
tone  in  which  he  spoke.  But  it  was  obviously  absurd 
to  suppose  that  any  one  could  take  seriously  the  idea 
of  financing  an  Irish  revolution. 

Then  Conroy  began  to  talk  about  Ireland.  He 
knew,  it  appeared,  a  great  deal  about  the  history  of 
the  country  up  to  a  certain  point.  He  had  a  tradi- 
tional knowledge  of  the  horrors  of  the  famine  period. 
He  was  intimately  acquainted  with  the  details  of  the 
Fenian  movement.  Either  he  or  his  father  had  been 
a  member  of  the  Clan  na  Gael.  He  understood  the 
Parnell  struggle  for  Home  Rule.  But  with  the  fall 


8  THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER 

of  Parnell  his  knowledge  stopped  abruptly.  Of  all  that 
happened  after  that  he  knew  nothing.  He  supposed 
that  the  later  Irish  leaders  had  inherited  the  traditions 
of  Mitchel,  O'Leary,  Davitt  and  the  others.  Bob 
laughed  at  him. 

"If  you're  thinking  of  buying  guns  for  the  Nation- 
alists," he  said,  "  you  may  save  your  money.  They 
wouldn't  use  them  if  they  had  arsenals  full.  They're 
quite  the  most  loyal  men  there  are  nowadays.  Why 
wouldn't  they?  They've  got  most  of  what  they  want 
and  dithering  told  me  the  Home  Rule  Bill  was  going 
to  knit  their  hearts  to  the  Empire.  Awful  rot,  of 
course,  but  his  very  words." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  said  Conroy. 

Bob  laughed  again.  He  had  all  the  contempt  com- 
mon in  his  class  for  those  of  his  fellow-countrymen 
who  professed  to  be  Nationalists.  But  he  had  rather 
more  intelligence  than  most  Irish  gentlemen.  He  quite 
realized  the  absurdity  of  supposing  that  the  Irish  Par- 
liamentary party  consisted  of  men  who  had  in  them 
the  makings  of  rebels. 

"  Read  their  speeches,"  he  said.  "  Since  this  talk 
of  Home  Rule  began  they've  been  cracking  up  the 
glories  of  the  British  Empire  like  —  like  the  Primrose 
League." 

"  To-morrow  morning,"  said  Conroy,  "  you'll  fetch 
me  along  all  the  books  and  pamphlets  you  can  lay  hands 
on  dealing  with  the  present  state  of  the  Irish  ques- 
tion." 

"  I  want  a  small  cart,"  said  Bob. 

"  Get  a  four-horse  waggon,  if  you  like,"  said  Con- 
roy. 


CHAPTER  II 

FOR  nearly  a  week  Conroy  remained  shut  up  in  his 
study.  Bob  was  kept  busy.  He  spent  a  good  deal 
of  time  in  writing  plausible  explanations  of  Conroy's 
failure  to  keep  his  social  engagements.  He  ransacked 
the  shelves  of  booksellers  for  works  dealing  with  con- 
temporary Irish  politics.  He  harried  the  managers  of 
press-cutting  companies  for  newspaper  reports  of 
speeches  on  Home  Rule.  These  were  things  for  which 
there  was  little  or  no  demand,  and  the  press-cutting 
people  resented  being  asked  for  them.  He  even  in- 
terviewed political  leaders.  These  gentlemen  received 
him  coldly  at  first,  suspecting  from  his  appearance  that 
he  wanted  to  get  a  chance  of  earning  £400  a  year  as  a 
member  of  Parliament,  and  hoped  to  persuade  them 
to  find  him  a  constituency.  When  they  discovered  that 
he  was  the  private  secretary  of  a  famous  millionaire 
their  manner  changed  and  they  explained  the  policies 
of  their  various  parties  in  such  ways  as  seemed  likely 
to  draw  large  cheques  from  Conroy. 

Bob  reported  what  they  said,  summarized  the  letters 
of  the  disappointed  hostesses,  and  piled  Conroy's  table 
with  books,  pamphlets,  and  newspaper  cuttings.  The 
whole  business  bored  and  worried  him.  The  idea  that 
Conroy  actually  contemplated  organizing  a  rebellion  in 
Ireland  never  crossed  his  mind.  He  hoped  that  the 
political  enthusiasm  of  his  patron  would  die  away  as 
quickly  as  it  had  sprung  up.  It  was  therefore  a  sur- 

9 


io  THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER 

prise  to  him  when,  after  a  few  weeks'  hard  reading, 
Conroy  announced  his  decision. 

"  I'm  going  into  this  business,"  he  said. 

"Politics?"  said  Bob. 

"  Politics  be  damned !  What  I'm  out  for  is  a  revolu- 
tion." 

"You  can't  do  it,"  said  Bob.  "I  told  you  at  the 
start  that  those  fellows  won't  fight.  They  haven't  it  in 
them  to  stand  up  and  be  shot  at." 

"  I'm  thinking  of  the  other  fellows,"  said  Conroy. 

"What  other  fellows?"  he  asked. 

"  Belfast,"  said  Conroy. 

Bob  whistled. 

"  But,"  he  said,  "  but  —  but  — "  The  extraordinary 
nature  of  the  idea  made  him  stammer.  "  But  they  are 
Loyalists." 

"  As  I  figure  it  out,"  said  Conroy,  "  they  mean  to 
rebel.  That's  what  they  say,  anyhow,  and  I  believe 
they  mean  it.  I  don't  care  a  cent  whether  they  call 
themselves  Loyalists  or  not.  It's  up  to  them  to  twist 
the  British  Lion's  tail,  and  I'm  with  them." 

"  Do  you  think  they  really  mean  it  ?  "  said  Bob. 

"Do  you?" 

"  Well,"  said  Bob,  after  a  slight  hesitation,  "  I  do. 
You  see  I  happen  to  know  one  of  them  pretty  well." 

Bob  showed  political  discernment.  It  was  the  fashion 
in  England  and  throughout  three-quarters  of  Ire- 
land to  laugh  at  Belfast.  Nobody  believed  that  a  com- 
munity of  merchants,  manufacturers  and  artisans  ac- 
tually meant  to  take  up  arms,  shoot  off  guns  and  hack  at 
the  bodies  of  their  fellow-men  with  swords  and  spears. 
This  thing,  at  the  beginning  of  the  twentieth  century, 
seemed  incredible.  To  politicians  it  was  simply  unthink- 


II 

able.  For  politics  are  a  game  played  in  strict  accord- 
ance with  a  set  of  rules.  For  several  centuries  no- 
body in  these  islands  had  broken  the  rules.  It  had 
come  to  be  regarded  as  impossible  that  any  one  could 
break  them.  No  one  expects  his  opponent  at  the  bridge 
table  to  draw  a  knife  from  his  pocket  and  run  amuck 
when  the  cards  go  against  him.  Nobody  expected  that 
the  north  of  Ireland  Protestants  would  actually  fight. 
To  threaten  fighting  is,  of  course,  well  within  the  rules 
of  the  game,  a  piece  of  bluff  which  any  one  is  en- 
titled to  try  if  he  thinks  he  will  gain  anything  by  it. 
Half  the  politicians  in  both  countries,  and  half  the 
inhabitants  of  England,  were  laughing  at  the  Belfast 
bluff.  The  rest  of  the  politicians  and  the  other  half 
of  the  inhabitants  of  England  were  pretending  to  be- 
lieve what  Belfast  said  so  as  to  give  an  air  of  more 
terrific  verisimilitude  to  the  bluff.  Conroy,  guided 
by  the  instinct  for  the  true  meaning  of  things  which 
had  led  him  to  great  wealth,  believed  that  the  talk  was 
more  than  bluff.  Bob  Power,  relying  on  what  he  knew 
of  the  character  of  one  man,  came  to  the  same  con- 
clusion. 

"  Who  is  the  man  you  know  ?  "  said  Conroy.     "  Not 
Babberly,  is  it?" 

"Oh   Lord!   no,"   said   Bob.     "Babberly  is  — well, 
Babberly  talks  a  lot." 

"  That's  so,"  said  Conroy.     "  But  if  it  isn't  Babberly, 
who  is  it  ?  " 

"  McNeice,"  said  Bob,  "  Gideon  McNeice." 
"  H'm.    He's  something  in  some  university,  isn't  he  ?  " 
Conroy  spoke  contemptuously.     He  had  a  low  opin- 
ion of  the  men  who  win  honours  in  universities.     They 
seemed  to  him  to  be  unpractical  creatures.     He  had, 


12  THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER 

indeed,  himself  founded  a  university  before  he  left 
America  and  handsomely  endowed  several  professorial 
chairs.  But  he  did  so  in  the  spirit  which  led  Dean 
Swift  to  found  a  lunatic  asylum.  He  wanted  to  pro- 
vide a  kind  of  hospital  for  a  class  of  men  who  ought, 
for  the  sake  of  society,  to  be  secluded,  lest  their  theor- 
ies should  come  inconveniently  athwart  the  plans  of 
those  who  are  engaged  in  the  real  business  of  life. 

"  McNeice,"  said  Bob,  "  is  a  Fellow  of  Trinity  Col- 
lege, Dublin.  He  was  my  tutor." 

Then  he  told  Conroy  the  story  of  Gideon  McNeice's 
life  as  far  as  he  knew  it  at  that  time.  It  was  a  remark- 
able story,  but  not  yet,  as  it  became  afterwards,  strik- 
ingly singular. 

Gideon  was  the  son  of  Ebenezer  McNeice,  a  riveter 
in  one  of  the  great  shipbuilding  yards  in  Belfast.  This 
Ebenezer  was  an  Orangeman  and,  on  the  I2th  of  July, 
was  accustomed  to  march  long  distances  over  dusty 
roads  beating  a  big  drum  with  untiring  vigour.  His 
Protestantism  was  a  religion  of  the  most  definite  kind. 
He  rarely  went  to  church,  but  he  hated  Popery  with 
a  profound  earnestness.  Gideon  was  taught,  as  soon 
as  he  could  speak,  to  say,  "  No  Pope,  no  Priest,  no 
Surrender,  Hurrah ! "  That  was  the  first  stage  in  his 
education.  The  second  was  taken  at  a  National 
school  where  he  learned  the  multiplication  table  and 
the  decimal  system  with  unusual  ease.  The  master  of 
a  second-rate  intermediate  school  heard  of  the  boy's 
ability.  Being  anxious  to  earn  the  fees  which  a  gen- 
erous government  gives  to  the  masters  of  clever  boys, 
this  man  offered  to  continue  Gideon's  education  with- 
out asking  payment  from  Ebenezer.  The  speculation 
turned  out  well.  Gideon  did  more  than  was  expected 


THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER  13 

of  him.  He  won  all  the  exhibitions,  medals  and  prizes 
possible  under  the  Irish  Intermediate  system.  At  last 
he  won  a  mathematical  sizarship  in  Trinity  College. 

Belfast  —  perhaps  because  of  the  religious  atmos- 
phere of  the  city,  perhaps  because  of  the  interest  taken 
by  its  inhabitants  in  money-making  —  has  not  given  to 
the  world  many  eminent  poets,  philosophers  or  scholars. 
Nor,  curiously  enough,  has  it  ever  produced  an  emi- 
nent theologian,  or  even  a  heretic  of  any  reputation. 
But  it  has  given  birth  to  several  mathematicians  of 
quite  respectable  standing.  Gideon  McNeice  was  one 
of  them.  After  the  sizarship  he  won  a  scholarship, 
and  then,  at  an  unusually  early  age,  a  fellowship.  It 
is  generally  believed  that  the  examination  for  fellow- 
ship in  Trinity  College  in  Dublin  is  so  severe  that  no 
one  who  is  successful  in  it  is  ever  good  for  anything 
afterwards.  Having  once  passed  that  examination  men 
are  said  to  settle  down  into  a  condition  of  exhausted 
mediocrity.  Gideon  McNeice  proved  to  be  an  excep- 
tion to  the  rule.  Having  won  his  fellowship  and 
thereby  demonstrated  to  the  world  that  he  knew  all 
that  there  is  to  know  about  the  science  of  mathematics, 
he  at  once  turned  to  theology.  Theology,  since  he  lived 
in  Ireland,  led  him  straight  to  politics.  He  became  one 
of  the  fighting  men  of  the  Irish  Unionist  party.  He 
also,  chiefly  because  of  his  very  bad  manners,  became 
very  unpopular  among  the  fellows  and  professors  of 
the  College. 

It  must  not  be  supposed  that  he  had  the  smallest 
sympathy  with  the  unfortunate  Irish  aristocracy,  who, 
having  like  the  Bourbons  failed  either  to  learn  or  to 
forget,  still  repeat  the  watch-words  of  long-past  cen- 
turies and  are  greatly  surprised  that  no  one  can  be 


I4  THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER 

found  to  listen  to  them.  Gideon  McNeice's  Unionism 
was  of  a  much  more  vigorous  and  militant  kind.  He 
respected  England  and  had  no  objection  to  singing 
"  God  save  the  King  "  very  much  out  of  tune,  so  long 
as  England  and  her  King  were  obviously  and  blatantly 
on  the  side  of  Protestantism.  He  was  quite  prepared 
to  substitute  some  other  form  of  government  for  our 
present  Imperial  system  if  either  the  King,  his  repre- 
sentative the  Lord  Lieutenant,  or  the  Parliament  of 
Westminster,  showed  the  smallest  inclination  to  con- 
sider the  feelings  of  the  Roman  Catholic  hierarchy. 

It  was  thus  that  Bob  Power,  who  was  by  no  means  a 
fool,  described  McNeice's  character.  Conroy  was  in- 
terested. 

"  I  should  like,"  he  said,  "  to  see  that  man  and  talk 
to  him.  Suppose  you  go  over  to  Dublin  to-morrow  and 
bring  him  here." 

"You  won't  like  him,"  said  Bob.  "He's  — well, 
domineering  is  the  only  word  I  can  think  of." 

"  For  that  matter,"  said  Conroy,  "  I  am  domineering 
too." 

This  was  true.  Conroy  had  good  manners,  unusu- 
ally good  manners  for  a  millionaire,  but  underneath  the 
manners  lay  a  determination  to  get  his  own  way  in 
small  matters  as  well  as  great.  Bob,  who  knew  both 
men,  expected  that  they  would  become  deadly  enemies 
in  the  course  of  twenty-four  hours.  He  was  mistaken. 
To  say  that  they  became  friends  would  be  misleading. 
They  probably  disliked  each  other.  But  they  certainly 
became  allies,  planned  together  and  worked  together 
the  amazing  scheme  which  ended  in  the  last  —  we  are 
justified  in  assuming  that  it  really  was  the  last  —  re- 
bellion of  Irishmen  against  the  power  of  England. 


THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER  15 

Conroy  supplied  the  money  and  a  great  deal  of  the 
brains  which  went  to  the  carrying  through  of  the  plan. 
He  had,  as  a  financier  with  world-wide  interests,  a 
knowledge  of  European  markets  and  manufactures 
which  was  very  useful  if  not  absolutely  necessary. 
He  had,  as  his  inspiration,  an  extraordinarily  vivid 
hatred  of  England.  This  was  partly  an  inheritance 
from  his  Irish  ancestors,  men  who  had  been  bullied  for 
centuries  and  laid  the  blame  of  their  sufferings  on  Eng- 
land. Partly  it  was  the  result  of  the  contempt  he 
learned  to  feel  for  Englishmen  while  he  held  his  lead- 
ing position  in  London  society.  With  McNeice's  vio- 
lent Protestantism  he  never  can  have  had  the  smallest 
sympathy.  His  ancestors  were  probably,  almost  cer- 
tainly, Roman  Catholics.  If  he  professed  any  form 
of  Christianity  it  must  have  been  that  of  some  sect  un- 
represented in  England.  No  one  ever  heard  of  his 
attaching  himself,  even  temporarily,  to  either  church 
or  chapel.  McNeice  also  supplied  brains  and  enthu- 
siasm. His  intelligence  was  narrower  than  Conroy's, 
but  more  intensely  concentrated.  He  knew  the  men 
with  whom  he  intended  to  deal.  By  birth  and  early 
education  he  belonged  to  that  north  Irish  democracy 
which  is  probably  less  imaginative  and  less  reasonable 
but  more  virile  than  any  other  in  the  world.  He  be- 
lieved, as  his  fathers  had  believed  before  him  and  his 
relations  believed  along  with  him,  that  the  Belfast  man 
has  a  natural  right  to  govern  the  world,  and  only  re- 
frains from  doing  so  because  he  has  more  important 
matters  to  attend  to.  He  believed,  and  could  give  ex- 
cellent reasons  in  support  of  his  belief,  that  the  other 
inhabitants  of  Ireland  were  meant  by  providence  to  be 
Gibeonites,  hewers  of  wood  and  drawers  of  water  for 


16  THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER 

the  people  of  Antrim  and  Down.  He  had  quite  as 
great  a  contempt  for  the  Unionist  landlords,  who  occa- 
sionally spoke  beside  him  on  political  platforms,  as  he 
had  for  the  Nationalist  tenants  who  were  wrestling 
their  estates  from  them. 

Bob  Power  went  to  Dublin,  and  with  great  difficulty 
persuaded  McNeice  to  pay  Conroy  a  visit  in  London. 
For  a  fortnight  the  two  men  remained  together,  dis- 
cussing, planning,  devising.  Others,  among  them  James 
Crossan,  manager  of  the  Kilmore  Co-operative  Stores, 
and  Grand  Master  of  the  Orangemen  of  the  county, 
were  summoned  to  the  conference. 

Then  the  first  steps  were  taken.  McNeice  went  back 
to  Ireland  and  began,  with  the  aid  of  James  Crossan, 
his  work  of  organization.  Conroy  sold  his  house  in 
London,  realized  by  degrees  a  considerable  part  of  his 
large  fortune,  placed  sums  of  money  to  his  credit  in 
French  and  German  banks  and  gave  over  the  command 
of  his  yacht,  the  Finola,  to  Bob  Power.  From  this  time 
on  Conroy  disappeared  from  London  society.  Stories 
were  told  in  clubs  and  drawing-rooms  about  the  say- 
ings and  doings  of  "  His  Royal  Magnificence  J.  P.  C.," 
but  these  gradually  grew  stale  and  no  fresh  ones  were 
forthcoming.  The  newspapers  still  printed  from  time 
to  time  paragraphs  which  had  plainly  been  sent  to  them 
by  Conroy  himself,  but  no  one  at  the  time  took  very 
much  interest  in  them. 

"  Mr.  J.  P.  Conroy  " —  so  people  read  — "  has  gone 
for  a  cruise  in  Mediterranean  waters  in  his  steam  yacht, 
the  Finola."  It  did  not  seem  to  matter  whether  he  had 
or  not.  "  Among  his  guests  are  —  Then  would  fol- 
low a  list  of  names;  but  always  those  of  people  more 
eminent  than  fashionable.  The  Prime  Minister  went 


THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER  17 

for  a  short  cruise  with  him.  The  Chancellor  of  the 
Exchequer  went  twice.  Several  admirals,  a  judge  or 
two,  and  three  or  four  well-known  generals  were  on 
board  at  different  times.  Once  he  had  two  bishops, 
an  Anglican  who  was  known  as  a  profound  theologian, 
and  a  Roman  Catholic  prelate  from  the  west  of  Ire- 
land. The  names  of  women  rarely  appeared  on  the 
list,  but  the  Countess  of  Moyne  was  advertised  as 
having  accepted  Conroy's  hospitality  twice.  She  was 
well  placed  among  the  notable  men.  She  was  a  young 
woman  of  singular  beauty  and  great  personal  charm. 
She  might  have  been  if  she  had  chosen  a  leader  of 
the  society  which  lives  to  amuse  itself.  Her  husband's 
great  wealth  and  high  social  position  would  have  se- 
cured her  any  place  in  that  world  which  she  chose  to 
take.  Being  a  woman  of  brains  as  well  as  beauty  she 
chose  to  work  instead  of  play,  and  had  become  a  force, 
real  though  not  formally  recognized,  in  political  life. 

It  is  a  curious  instance  of  the  careful  way  in  which 
Conroy  worked  out  the  details  of  his  plans,  that  he 
should  have  used  the  Finola  in  this  way.  The  cruises 
which  he  took  with  his  eminent  guests  were  always 
well  advertised  and  always  short.  But  the  Finola  was 
kept  continually  in  commission.  Her  voyages  when  there 
were  no  great  people  on  board  were  longer,  were  never 
advertised,  and  were  much  more  exciting.  But  no 
one  suspected,  or  could  have  suspected,  that  a  million- 
aire's yacht,  and  it  the  temporary  home  of  the  leading 
members  of  the  governing  classes,  could  have  been  en- 
gaged in  a  secret  trade,  highly  dangerous  to  the  peace 
and  security  of  the  nation.  It  is  difficult  even  now  to 
imagine  that  after  landing  the  Prime  Minister  and 
couple  of  bishops  at  Cowes  the  yacht  should  have 


i8  THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER 

started  off  to  keep  a  midnight  appointment  with  a  dis- 
reputable tramp  steamer  in  an  unfrequented  part  of 
the  North  Sea;  that  Bob  Power,  after  making  himself 
agreeable  for  a  fortnight  to  Lady  Moyne,  should  have 
sweated  like  a  stevedore  at  the  difficult  job  of  tranship- 
ping a  cargo  in  mid-ocean. 


CHAPTER  III 

I  NOW  reach  the  time  when  I  myself  came  for  the 
first  time  in  touch  with  Conroy's  plans  and  had 
my  first  meeting  with  Gideon  McNeice. 

I  am  an  insignificant  Irish  peer,  far  from  wealthy, 
with  a  taste  for  literature,  and,  I  think,  a  moderate 
amount  of  benevolent  feeling  towards  those  of  my  fel- 
low-men who  do  not  annoy  me  in  any  way.  I  sold 
the  estate,  which  had  long  before  ceased  to  be  in  any 
real  sense  my  property,  immediately  after  the  passing 
of  the  Land  Act  of  1903.  I  have  lived  since  then 
chiefly  in  Kilmore  Castle,  a  delightfully  situated  resi- 
dence built  by  my  grandfather,  which  suits  me  very 
well  indeed.  I  have  occupied  my  time  for  years  back 
in  gathering  materials  for  a  history  of  all  the  Irish  re- 
bellions there  have  ever  been.  My  daughter  Marion 
used  to  help  me  in  this  work,  by  filing  and  classifying 
the  various  slips  of  paper  on  which  I  made  notes. 
Now  that  she  has  got  married  and  cannot  help  me  any 
more  I  have  given  up  the  idea  of  finishing  my  great 
work.  I  am  satisfying  my  evil  itch  for  writing  by 
setting  down  an  account  of  the  short  struggle  between 
north-eastern  Ulster  and  the  rest  of  the  British  Em- 
pire. 

The  5th  of  June  was  the  day  on  which  I  first  met 
Bob  Power,  first  came  into  contact  with  McNeice,  and 
first  set  eyes  on  the  notorious  Finola.  It  was  the  day 
fixed  by  my  nephew  Godfrey  D'Aubigny  for  the  first, 

19 


20  THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER 

for  that  year,  of  the  series  of  garden-parties  which  I 
give  annually.  I  detest  these  festivities,  and  I  have 
every  reason  to  believe  that  they  must  be  quite  as  ob- 
jectionable to  my  guests  as  they  are  to  me.  It  is  God- 
frey who  insists  on  their  being  held.  He  holds  that 
I  am  bound  to  do  some  entertaining  in  order  to  keep 
up  my  position  in  the  county.  I  am  not  in  the  least 
interested  in  my  position  in  the  county;  but  Godfrey 
is,  and,  of  course,  the  matter  is  of  some  importance  to 
him.  He  is  heir  to  my  title.  I  used  to  think  and  he 
used  to  think  that  he  would  ultimately  enjoy  my  in- 
come too,  securing  it  by  marrying  my  daughter  Marion. 
I  am  glad  to  say  he  has  not  succeeded  in  doing  this. 
Marion  has  married  a  much  better  man. 

I  was  sitting  in  my  study  after  breakfast,  fiddling 
with  my  papers,  but  unable  to  settle  down  to  work. 
The  prospect  of  the  party  in  the  afternoon  depressed 
and  irritated  me.  Godfrey  entered  the  room  suddenly 
through  the  window.  The  fact  that  he  is  my  heir  does 
not  seem  to  me  to  entitle  him  to  come  upon  me  like 
a  thief  in  the  night.  He  ought  to  go  to  the  door  of 
the  house,  ring  the  bell,  and  ask  if  I  am  willing  to  see 
him. 

"  Good  morning,  Excellency,"  he  said,  "  glorious  day, 
isn't  it?" 

Godfrey  always  addressed  me  as  "  Excellency."  I 
cannot  imagine  why  he  does  so.  I  have  never  been 
and  never  hope  to  be  a  Lord  Lieutenant  or  a  Colonial 
Governor.  The  title  is  not  one  which  belongs  to  the 
office  of  a  deputy  lieutenant  of  a  county,  the  only 'post 
of  honour  which  I  hold. 

"  I  expect  we'll  have  a  pretty  good  crowd  this  after- 
noon," he  said.  "  Lady  Moyne  is  motoring  over.  But 


THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER  21 

that's  not  what  I  came  to  say  to  you.  The  fact  is  that 
something  rather  important  has  just  happened." 

"  The  people  in  the  gate  lodge  have  burst  the  new 
boiler  I  put  in  for  them,  I  suppose  ?  "  This  is  the  kind 
of  thing  Godfrey  considers  important. 

"  Not  that  I  know  of,"  he  said ;  "  but  I'll  go  down 
and  inquire  if  you  think — " 

"  I  don't  think  anything  about  the  matter,"  I  said. 
"  If  it  isn't  that,  what  is  it  that  you've  come  to  tell 
me?" 

"  A  big  steam  yacht  has  just  anchored  in  the  bay," 
he  said,  "  the  Finola.  She  belongs  to  Conroy,  the  mil- 
lionaire." 

Godfrey  is  intensely  interested  in  millionaires.  He 
always  hopes  that  he  may  be  able  in  some  way  to  se- 
cure for  himself  some  of  their  superfluous  cash. 

"  I  think,"  he  said,  "  you  ought  to  go  down  and 
leave  a  card  on  him.  It  would  only  be  civil." 

"  Very  well,"  I  said,  "  you  can  go  and  leave  my 
card,  if  you  like." 

This  was  evidently  what  Godfrey  expected  me  to 
say.  He  seemed  grateful. 

"  Very  well,  Excellency,  I'll  go  at  once.  I'll  invite 
him  and  his  party  to  your  menagerie  this  afternoon. 
I  dare  say  it  will  amuse  them  to  see  the  natives." 

Godfrey  always  calls  my  parties  menageries,  and 
my  guests  natives.  Lady  Moyne  and  her  husband, 
who  sometimes  comes  with  her,  are  not  counted  as 
natives.  Nor  am  I.  Nor  is  Marion.  Nor  is  Godfrey 
himself.  This  illustrates  the  working  of  Godfrey's 
mind.  As  a  matter  of  fact  the  Moynes  and  my  own 
family  are  about  the  only  people  of  social  importance 
in  the  locality  who  ought  to  be  called  natives.  My 


22  THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER 

other  guests  are  all  strangers,  officials  of  one  kind  or 
another,  stipendiary  magistrates,  police  officers,  bank 
managers,  doctors,  clergymen  and  others  whom  an  un- 
kind fate  has  temporarily  stranded  in  our  neighbour- 
hood; who  all  look  forward  to  an  escape  from  their 
exile  and  a  period  of  leisure  retirement  in  the  suburbs 
of  Dublin. 

Godfrey  left  me,  and  I  went  on  fidgetting  with  my 
papers  until  luncheon-time. 

Marion  and  I  were  just  finishing  luncheon  when  God- 
frey came  in  again. 

"  Well,"  I  said,  "  have  you  captured  your  million- 
aire?" 

"  He  wasn't  on  board,"  said  Godfrey.  "  There  were 
two  men  there,  Power,  who's  Conroy's  secretary,  and 
a  horrid  bounder  called  McNeice.  They  were  drinking 
bottled  stout  in  the  cabin  with  Crossan." 

"  Under  those  circumstances,"  I  said,  "  you  did  not, 
I  suppose,  leave  my  cards." 

Godfrey  has  a  standing  feud  with  Crossan,  who  is 
not  a  gentleman  and  does  not  pretend  to  be.  Godfrey, 
judged  by  any  rational  standard,  is  even  less  of  a  gen- 
tleman; but  as  the  future  Lord  Kilmore  he  belongs 
to  the  ranks  of  an  aristocracy  and  therefore  has  a  con- 
tempt for  Crossan.  The  two  come  into  very  frequent 
contact  and  quite  as  frequent  conflict.  Crossan  manages 
the  co-operative  store  which  I  started,  and  Godfrey  re- 
gards him  as  one  of  my  servants.  Crossan,  who  has  a 
fine  instinct  for  business,  also  manages  the  commercial 
side  of  our  local  mackerel  fishing.  Godfrey  thinks  he 
would  manage  this  better  than  Crossan  does.  Their 
latest  feud  was  concerned  with  the  service  of  carts 


THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER  23 

which  take  the  fish  from  our  little  harbour  to  the  nearest 
railway  station.  Crossan  is  politically  a  strong  Protes- 
tant and  an  Orangeman  of  high  attainment.  Godfrey 
has  no  particular  religion,  and  in  politics  belongs  to  that 
old-fashioned  school  of  Conservatives  who  think  that 
the  lower  orders  ought  to  be  respectful  to  their  betters. 
Crossan  having  been  taught  the  Church  Catechism  in 
his  youth,  admits  this  respect  as  theoretical  duty ;  but 
gets  out  of  performing  it  in  practice  by  denying  that 
Godfrey,  or  for  the  matter  of  that  any  one  else,  is  his 
better.  Godfrey's  constant  complaints  about  Crossan 
are  the  thorns  which  remind  me  that  I  must  not  regard 
my  lot  in  life  as  altogether  pleasant.  I  felt  justified  in 
assuming  that  Godfrey  had  not  left  my  cards  on  men 
who  degraded  themselves  so  far  as  to  drink  bottled 
stout  in  company  with  Crossan. 

I  was  wrong.  Godfrey  did  leave  my  cards.  I  can 
only  suppose  that  his  respect  for  the  private  secretary 
of  a  millionaire  was  stronger  than  his  dislike  of  Cros- 
san. He  had  even,  it  appeared,  invited  both  Power  and 
McNeice  to  view  my  "  menagerie."  For  this  he  felt  it 
necessary  to  offer  some  excuse. 

"  He  is  one  of  the  Powers  of  Kilfenora,"  he  said, 
"  so  I  thought  it  would  be  no  harm.  By  the  way,  Mar- 
ion, what  are  you  going  to  wear?  I  should  say  that 
your  blue  crepe  de  chine  — " 

Godfrey  is  something  of  an  expert  in  the  matter  of 
woman's  clothes.  Marion,  I  know,  frequently  consults 
him  and  values  his  opinion  highly.  Unfortunately  the 
subject  bores  me.  I  cut  him  short  with  a  remark 
which  was  intended  for  a  snub. 

"  I   hope  you  have  a  new  suit  yourself,  Godfrey. 


24  THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER 

The  occasion  is  an  important  one.  If  both  Lady  Moyne 
and  Conroy's  private  secretary  are  to  be  here,  you  ought 
to  look  your  best." 

But  it  is  almost  impossible  to  snub  Godfrey.  He 
answered  me  with  a  cheerful  friendliness  which  showed 
that  he  appreciated  my  interest  in  his  appearance. 

"  I  have  a  new  grey  suit,"  he  said.  "  It  arrived  this, 
morning,  and  it's  a  capital  fit.  That's  the  advantage 
of  employing  really  good  tailors.  You  can  absolutely 
trust  Nicholson  and  Blackett." 

I  have  often  wondered  whether  Nicholson  and 
Blackett  could  absolutely  trust  Godfrey.  I  have  sev- 
eral times  paid  his  debts,  and  I  do  not  intend  to  do  so 
any  more.  If  they  were  debts  of  an  intelligible  kind  I 
should  not  mind  paying  them  occasionally.  But  God- 
frey has  no  ostensible  vices.  I  have  never  heard  of 
his  doing  anything  wild  or  disreputable.  He  does  not 
gamble  or  borrow  money  in  order  to  give  jewels  to 
pretty  actresses.  He  owes  bills  to  shop-keepers  for 
ties  and  trousers.  His  next  remark  showed  me  that 
Nicholson  and  Blackett  were  becoming  uneasy. 

"  By  the  way,  Excellency,"  he  said,  "  I'd  be  glad  if 
you'd  be  civil  to  the  Pringles  this  afternoon.  Get  her 
tea  or  something." 

Mr.  Pringle  is  the  manager  of  the  branch  of  the 
bank  in  which  Godfrey  keeps  his  account.  I  imagine 
that  he  and  his  wife  owe  their  invitations  to  my  gar- 
den parties  to  the  fact  that  Godfrey's  account  is  always 
overdrawn.  This  demand  that  I  should  be  especially 
civil  to  the  Pringles  suggested  to  me  that  Godfrey  con- 
templated sending  a  cheque  to  Nicholson  and  Blackett. 
I  have  no  particular  objection  to  being  civil  to  the  Prin- 


THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER  25 

gles.  I  have  to  be  civil  to  some  one.  I  readily  prom- 
ised to  get  both  tea  and  an  ice  for  Mrs.  Pringle ;  hoping 
that  Godfrey  would  go  away.  He  did  not.  He  began 
talking  again  about  Marion's  blue  dress.  It  was  with 
the  greatest  difficulty  that  I  got  him  out  of  the  house 
half  an  hour  later  by  saying  that  if  he  did  not  go  home 
at  once  he  would  not  have  time  to  dress  himself  with 
the  care  which  the  new  grey  suit  deserved. 

It  annoys  me  very  much  to  think  Godfrey  is  heir 
to  my  title.  It  used  to  annoy  me  still  more  to  think  that 
Marion  meant  to  marry  him.  She  assures  me  now  that 
she  never  intended  to ;  but  she  used  to  take  an  interest  in 
his  talk  about  clothes  and  he  certainly  intended  to  marry 
her. 


CHAPTER  IV 

THERE  are  some  churches  in  which  it  is  consid- 
ered desirable  to  keep  the  sexes  apart.  The  men 
are  placed  on  one  side  of  the  central  aisle,  the  women 
on  the  other.  At  my  garden-parties  this  separation 
takes  place  naturally  without  the  intervention  of  any 
authority.  The  men  gather  in  a  group  under  a  cer- 
tain chestnut-tree  and  talk  to  each  other  gloomily  in 
low  tones.  The  women  —  there  are  always  more 
women  than  men  —  seat  themselves  in  three  distinct 
rows  round  the  sides  of  the  tennis-court.  The  short 
row  across  the  top  of  the  tennis-court  is  reserved  by 
an  unwritten,  but  apparently  very  strict  law  for  the 
ladies  of  the  highest  social  position.  The  Dean's  wife, 
for  instance,  sits  in  that  row.  The  seats  at  the  other 
end  of  the  court  are  occupied  by  people  like  the  Prin- 
gles,  those  who  are  just  eligible  for  invitations  to  my 
parties,  but  have,  so  to  speak,  no  social  position  to  spare. 
They  always  remind  me  of  St.  Paul's  "  righteous  "  who 
"  scarcely  are  saved."  The  long  side  of  the  tennis- 
court  opposite  the  chestnut-tree,  which  forms  a  kind 
of  male  seraglio,  is  given  over  to  those  of  middling  sta- 
tion, ladies  who  are,  perhaps,  in  a  position  to  shake 
hands  with  Lady  Moyne,  and  who  do  not,  perhaps,  call 
on  Mrs.  Pringle. 

To  this  strictly  observed  etiquette  there  are  two  ex- 
ceptions. My  nephew  Godfrey  does  not  stand  under 
the  chestnut-tree,  but  keeps  close  to  the  side  of  Lady 

26 


THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER  27 

Moyne.  The  other  men  make  it  quite  clear  that  they 
do  not  want  him.  No  man  whom  I  have  ever  met  can 
tolerate  Godfrey's  company.  He  follows  Lady  Moyne 
about  because  he  believes  her  to  be  a  lady  of  political 
influence,  and  he  hopes  she  will  get  him  a  well-paid 
post  under  the  government.  He  is  one  exception.  The 
other  is  Lady  Moyne  herself.  She  declines  to  sit  in  a 
row.  She  walks  about,  sometimes  walks  away  from 
the  rest  of  the  party. 

My  daughter  Marion's  duty  on  these  occasions  is 
to  drag  young  men  from  the  shelter  of  the  chestnut- 
tree  and  make  them  play  tennis  with  young  women 
called  from  one  or  other  of  the  rows  in  which  their 
mothers  have  planted  them.  Marion  finds  this  a  diffi- 
cult duty,  requiring  her  utmost  tact.  My  own  duty, 
which  I  fulfil  in  the  most  conscientious  manner,  is  to 
make  as  many  complete  journeys  round  the  tennis- 
court  as  possible,  saying  something  to  every  lady  in  all 
three  rows,  and  giving  a  kind  of  general  address  of  a 
friendly  and  encouraging  kind  to  the  men  under  the 
chestnut-tree. 

On  this  particular  afternoon  two  unusual  incidents 
broke  the  monotony  of  my  party.  Lady  Moyne  re- 
fused to  be  satisfied  with  the  company  of  Godfrey. 
She  sat  down  beside  the  Dean's  wife  and  made  herself 
extremely  agreeable  for  nearly  ten  minutes.  Then  she 
crossed  the  corner  of  the  tennis-court,  seriously  inter- 
fering with  the  game  in  progress,  and  "  cut  out "  the 
Dean  from  the  middle  of  the  group  of  men  under  the 
chestnut-tree.  "  Cut  out "  is  strictly  the  right  phrase 
to  use.  It  is  applied  or  used  to  be  applied  to  the  opera- 
tion of  capturing  and  carrying  off  ships  at  anchor  un- 
der the  protecting  guns  of  friendly  forts.  It  requires 


.28  THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER 

great  dash  and  gallantry  to  "  cut  out "  a  ship.  The 
whole  audience  gaped  in  astonishment  at  Lady  Moyne's 
daring  when  she  captured  the  Dean.  She  walked  off 
with  him,  when  she  got  him,  to  the  shrubbery  at  the 
far  end  of  the  lawn.  They  were  a  singularly  ill-as- 
sorted pair.  Lady  Moyne  is  invariably  exquisite,  a 
small  woman  with  dainty  ways  and  great  vivacity.  The 
Dean  is  an  ecclesiastic  as  different  as  possible  from  the 
suave  dignitaries  who  lead  lives  of  scholarly  leisure  in 
cathedral  closes.  We  picture  the  ideal  dean,  a  slender 
man,  slightly  stooped,  thin-lipped,  with  a  suggestion 
of  mild  asceticism  in  his  face.  He.  steps  slowly  through 
the  long  window  of  his  study.  He  paces  the  closely 
shaven  lawn.  The  crows  caw  reverently  in  lofty  trees. 
He  holds  a  calf-bound  volume  of  Plato  in  his  hand. 
From  time  to  time  he  glances  from  the  cramped  Greek 
text  to  the  noble,  weatherworn  towers  of  his  cathedral. 
His  life  is  delicately  scented  with  a  fine  mixture  of 
classical  culture  and  Tallis'  ferial  responses.  Our 
Dean  —  he  is  also  rector  of  our  parish  —  is  a  man  of  a 
wholly  different  kind.  He  is,  for  one  thing,  wholly 
unconnected  with  any  cathedral  and  has  probably  never 
paced  a  lawn  beneath  the  shadow  of  historic  towers  in 
all  his  life.  This  kind  of  detached,  independent  dean 
is  not  found,  I  believe,  anywhere  except  in  Ireland. 
He  is  tall,  cadaverous,  rugged,  and  he  can  open  his 
eyes  so  wide  that  the  whites  of  them  show  all  round 
the  irises.  Besides  being  a  dean  and  the  rector  of  our 
parish,  he  is  honorary  Grand  Chaplain  to  the  Black 
Preceptory  of  the  Orange  Order.  Crossan,  a  stern 
judge  of  ecclesiastics,  has  the  highest  opinion  of  him. 
It  was  surmised  by  a  lady  in  the  second  row  to  whom 
I  happened  to  be  talking  at  the  time,  that  Lady  Moyne 


THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER  29 

wanted  to  consult  with  him  about  the  best  way  of  de- 
feating the  Home  Rule  Bill.  Lady  Moyne  is,  of  course, 
a  strong  Unionist. 

The  second  unusual  incident  of  the  afternoon  fol- 
lowed the  arrival  of  Bob  Power.  He  came  late,  and 
Godfrey,  driven  from  the  side  of  Lady  Moyne,  fastened 
on  to  him  at  once.  Bob  shook  him  off  and  joined  Mar- 
ion. Marion,  who  had  her  duties  to  do  and  could  not 
allow  Bob  to  take  possession  of  her,  introduced  him 
to  a  humble  maiden  who  sat  with  her  mother  in  the 
third  row.  Bob,  it  appears,  selected  the  damsel  him- 
self after  looking  all  round  the  tennis-court.  To  the 
great  scandal  of  every  one  present  he  led  her  away 
from  the  tennis-court,  and  found  his  way  to  the  gar- 
den. There  —  I  judged  by  the  condition  of  her  gloves 
when  they  returned  —  they  picked  strawberries.  I 
have  every  reason  to  believe  that  Miss  Pringle  —  the 
girl  was  the  daughter  of  Godfrey's  banker  —  enjoyed 
this  garden-party  as  she  had  never  enjoyed  one  before. 
She  was  actually  laughing,  and  was  looking  very  pretty 
when  Bob  brought  her  back  to  the  refreshment  tent  for 
tea. 

I  felt  so  pleased  with  Bob  for  his  audacity  that  I 
asked  him  to  dine  with  us.  He  refused,  saying  that  he 
would  be  busy  on  the  yacht,  but  he  promised  to  call  on 
us  next  morning. 

The  garden-party  wore  itself  to  an  end  as  even  the 
dreariest  festivities  always  do.  Marion  and  I  dined 
together  in  a  condition  of  irritable  exhaustion.  After 
dinner  we  played  Patience  for  an  hour  in  the  library. 
Then  Marion  took  a  novel,  and  I  settled  down  to  read 
The  Times.  The  night  was  very  close  and  we  sat 
with  both  windows  wide  open. 


3o  THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER 

The  Times  had  articles  and  letters  on  two  subjects, 
the  Home  Rule  Bill,  which  was  a  menace  to  the  Em- 
pire and  a  danger  to  Irish  Loyalists;  and  the  German 
Navy,  which  was  also  a  menace  to  the  Empire  and  a 
danger  to  every  one  in  the  United  Kingdom  whether 
loyal  or  not.  After  reading  the  leading  articles  I  passed 
on  to  the  letters  addressed  to  the  editor.  These  are 
always,  in  my  opinion,  the  most  interesting  part  of  any 
newspaper.  The  editor  and  leader  writers  are  no 
doubt  abler  men  than  most  of  their  correspondents; 
but  then  they  write  because  they  must,  and  they  write 
in  a  hurry.  The  correspondents  on  the  other  hand 
write  because  they  have  something  in  them  —  some- 
thing foolish  as  a  rule,  but  none  the  less  interesting  — 
which  is  struggling  for  expression  in  print.  They  also 
—  being  for  the  most  part  retired  military  officers  - — 
have  abundant  leisure  and  are  able  to  take  days, 
perhaps  weeks,  in  the  preparation  of  their  compo- 
sitions. 

In  that  particular  number  of  The  Times,  two  retired 
colonels  had  written  letters.  One  of  them  was  dis- 
quieted by  the  growth  of  the  German  Navy.  He  was 
uninteresting.  The  other  —  a  Colonel  Malcolmson, 
whom  I  meet  occasionally  at  my  club  —  had  delivered 
himself  of  a  plan  of  campaign,  an  actual  fighting  pro- 
gramme, which  he  recommended  to  the  Ulstermen, 
supposing  that  they  meant  to  declare  war  against  any 
one  who  wanted  them  to  govern  themselves.  This 
letter  interested  me  very  much.  Malcolmson  offered 
his  lawn  as  a  parade  and  drill  ground  for  volunteers. 
He  also  said  that  he  thoroughly  understood  modern 
guns,  and  was  prepared  to  take  command  of  any  artil- 
lery which  Ulster  might  happen  to  possess.  I  lay  back 


THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER  31 

in  my  chair  and  tried  to  form  a  mental  picture  of  Mal- 
colmson,  who  is  stout  and  has  a  bristly  white  moustache, 
aiming  an  immense  cannon  at  an  income  tax  collector. 
The  vision  was  a  pleasant  one  to  linger  over,  and  I 
added  to  the  scene  before  my  mind  the  figure  of  an 
athletic  policeman  threatening  to  smash  Malcolmson's 
cannon  with  a  baton.  The  Nationalist  leaders  then  ap- 
peared in  the  background  waving  Union  Jack  flags,  and 
urging  the  policeman  to  fresh  exertions  in  the  cause  of 
law  and  order.  I  even  seemed  to  hear  them  denounc- 
ing Malcolmson  as  one  of  those  who  march  through 
rapine  and  bloodshed  to  the  dismemberment  of  an 
Empire. 

I  was  aroused  from  my  agreeable  reverie  by  Marion. 
She  was  standing  at  the  window  looking  out  across  the 
bay  on  the  far  shore  of  which  stands  the  little  town  of 
Kilmore,  from  which  my  ancestor,  who  was  a  Union 
peer,  took  his  title. 

"  I  wonder  what  they're  doing  in  the  village  to- 
night," she  said.  "  There  are  a  lot  of  lights  moving 
about  in  the  harbour  and  on  the  quay." 

I  shook  myself  free  of  the  vision  of  Malcolmson's 
artillery  duel  with  the  tax  collector,  and  joined  Marion 
at  the  window.  A  half  moon  lit  the  scene  before  me 
dimly,  making  patches  of  silver  light  here  and  there 
on  the  calm  waters  of  the  bay.  The  Finola,  looking 
very  large,  lay  at  anchor,  broadside  on  to  us,  opposite 
the  pier.  On  her  deck  lights  moved  to  and  fro,  yellow 
stars  in  the  grey  gloom.  On  the  pier  were  more  lights, 
lanterns  evidently,  some  stationary,  others  flickering  in 
rapid  motion.  The  night  was  so  still  that  I  could  hear 
distinctly  the  rattle  of  oars  in  rowlocks.  Boats  were 
plying  between  the  Finola  and  the  shore. 


32  THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER 

"  Can  they  be  landing  anything  from  the  yacht  ?  " 
said  Marion. 

"  I  don't  think  so,"  I  said.  "  Yachts  do  not  carry 
cargoes,  and  if  they  did  they  wouldn't  land  them  in  the 
middle  of  the  night." 

I  looked  at  my  watch.  It  was  almost  twelve  o'clock. 
Then  another  noise  was  added  to  the  rattling  of  oars. 
A  cart,  unmistakably  a  cart,  lumbered  across  the  stones 
at  the  end  of  the  pier.  After  a  while  this  cart 
emerged  from  the  black  shadows  of  the  houses  and  we 
could  see  it  toiling  up  the  hill  which  leads  out  of  the 
town.  A  very  slight  southerly  breeze  was  setting 
across  the  bay  from  the  town  to  us.  We  could  hear 
the  driver  shouting  encouragement  to  his  horse  as  he 
breasted  the  hill.  The  cart  was  evidently  heavily 
loaded. 

"  The  boats  haven't  been  out,"  said  Marion.  "  There 
cannot  have  been  a  catch  of  mackerel." 

When  there  is  a  catch  of  mackerel  the  fish  are  packed 
in  boxes  on  the  pier,  and  carts,  laden  like  the  one  we 
watched,  climb  the  hill.  There  is  a  regularly  organ- 
ized service  of  those  carts  under  the  control  of  Crossan. 

"  It  can't  be  fish,"  I  said,  "  unless  the  Finola  has  been 
making  a  catch  and  has  come  in  here  to  land  them." 

Another  cart  bumped  its  way  off  the  pier,  and  in  a 
minute  or  two  we  saw  it  climbing  the  hill.  Then  the 
lights  on  the  Finola's  deck  went  out  one  by  one.  The 
boats  ceased  plying  between  the  yacht  and  the  shore. 

"  I  don't  see  why  they  should  land  fish  in  the  middle 
of  the  night,"  said  Marion. 

The  activity  of  the  people  on  the  pier  increased. 
More  lights  appeared  there  and  moved  very  rapidly  to 
and  fro. 


THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER  33 

"  Unless  they're  landing  what  they're  ashamed  of," 
said  Marion,  "  I  don't  see  why  they're  doing  it  at 
night." 

Mysteries  always  irritate  me.  I  answered  Marion 
impatiently. 

"  You  can't  be  so  foolish  as  to  suppose  that  Conroy 
is  smuggling.  It  wouldn't  be  any  temptation  to  a 
millionaire  to  cheat  the  revenue  out  of  the  duty  on  a 
few  pounds  of  tobacco." 

Several  more  carts  followed  each  other  in  a  slow 
procession  up  the  hill.  It  seemed  as  if  Crossan's  en- 
tire staff  of  men  and  horses  was  engaged  in  this  mid- 
night transport  service. 

"  Mr.  Conroy  might  not  know  anything  about  it," 
said  Marion.  "  It  may  be  done  — " 

"  I  don't  suppose  Bob  Power  — " 

"  There  was  another  man  on  board,"  said  Marion, 
"  and  Godfrey  seemed  to  think  that  he  was  —  well,  not 
a  very  nice  kind  of  man." 

"  The  fact  that  Godfrey  called  him  a  cad,"  I  said, 
"  rather  goes  to  show  that  he  is  a  man  with  a  great 
deal  of  good  in  him.  Besides,  as  it  happens,  I  know 
all  about  him.  His  name  is  McNeice  and  he  is  a  Fellow 
of  Trinity  College.  It's  ridiculous  to  suppose  that  he's 
landing  a  cargo  of  port  wine  for  consumption  in  the 
common  room.  Fellows  of  College  don't  do  that  kind 
of  thing.  Besides,  he's  a  good  scholar.  I  had  some 
correspondence  with  him  when  I  was  writing  my  article 
on  St.  Patrick's  birthplace.  I  mean  to  ask  him  to  din- 
ner to-morrow." 

That  disposed  of  Marion  and  her  smuggling  theory. 
She  gave  me  a  dutiful  kiss  and  went  to  bed. 

I  stood  at  the  window  and  watched  until  the  last  cart 


34  THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER 

had  mounted  the  hill.  The  lights  on  the  pier  went  out. 
A  solitary  boat  rowed  back  to  the  Finola.  The  town 
and  bay  were  still  again. 

I  shut  the  window  and  went  back  to  my  chair.  I  had 
some  thoughts  of  working  up  my  vision  of  Malcolm- 
son  and  his  artillery  into  a  short  article  of  a  light  kind, 
slightly  humorous,  with  a  vein  of  satire  running  through 
it.  I  sometimes  contribute  articles  of  this  kind,  under 
a  pseudonym,  to  a  London  evening  paper.  Unfortu- 
nately my  mind  refused  to  return  to  the  subject.  I 
was  worried  by  the  impossibility  of  finding  any  ex- 
planation of  the  curious  proceedings  of  the  Finola. 
The  more  I  thought  about  the  matter  the  less  I  was 
able  to  understand  it.  Marion's  smuggling  hypothesis 
I  dismissed  as  inherently  absurd.  It  is  true  that  the 
government  has  withdrawn  most  of  the  coastguards 
from  our  shores.  We  used  to  have  twelve  of  them  at 
Kilmore,  and  they  were  pleasant  fellows,  always  ready 
to  chat  on  topics  of  current  interest  with  any  passer-by. 
Now,  having  lingered  on  for  some  years  with  only  two, 
we  have  none  at  all.  But,  as  I  understand,  coastguards 
are  not  the  real  obstacle  to  smugglers  and  never  were. 
The  safety  of  the  revenue  depends  upon  the  perfection 
of  the  organization  of  its  inland  officers  which  makes 
it  impossible  to  dispose  of  whisky  which  cannot  show 
a  respectable  past  history. 

I  was  driven  back  finally  on  my  own  theory  —  in- 
herently very  improbable  —  that  the  Finola  had,  in  the 
course  of  her  voyage,  netted  an  immense  catch  of  mack- 
erel and  had  come  into  Kilmore  harbour  to  get  rid  of 
them. 


CHAPTER  V 

BOB  POWER  called  on  me  next  morning.  Mar- 
ion and  I  were  busy  at  my  history  of  Irish  rebel- 
lions when  Bob  was  shown  into  the  library.  The  sun, 
I  recollect,  was  shining  so  brightly  outside  that  I  had 
the  blinds  pulled  down  in  order  to  soften  the  light. 
Bob's  entrance  had  much  the  same  effect  as  pulling  up 
the  blinds  again.  He  brought  the  sunshine  with  him, 
not  in  the  trying  form  of  heat  and  glare,  but  tempered 
with  a  sea  breeze,  and  broken,  so  it  seemed  to  me,  into 
the  sparkle  of  leaping  waves.  His  work,  the  night  be- 
fore, whatever  it  was,  had  not  affected  his  spirits. 

As  a  rule  I  dislike  being  interrupted  when  I  am  en- 
gaged in  my  literary  work.  I  always  absolutely  hate 
it  when  Godfrey  is  the  interrupter.  But  I  found  my- 
self quite  pleased  when  Bob  Power  said  that  we  ought 
not  to  sit  indoors  on  so  fine  a  day.  Marion  ran  off  to 
get  her  hat  and  joined  us  on  the  lawn.  Bob  Power  led 
us  straight  to  the  garden,  and  when  we  got  there,  made 
for  the  strawberry  bed.  He  owned  to  a  pleasant  recol- 
lection of  the  feast  he  had  enjoyed  the  day  before. 

There  is  a  good  deal  of  the  school-boy  about  Bob 
Power,  and  Marion  is  quite  young  enough  to  enjoy 
gorging  herself  with  ripe  strawberries.  I,  alas !  am 
nearly  sixty  years  of  age.  A  very  small  number  of 
strawberries  satisfies  me,  and  I  find  that  stooping  to 
gather  them  from  beneath  their  nets  tires  me  after  a 
short  time.  Bob  Power  and  Marion  wandered  far  into 

35 


36  'THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER 

the  remoter  parts  of  my  strawberry  bed.  I  stayed  near 
the  pathway.  Their  voices  reached  me  and  their  laugh- 
ter ;  but  I  could  not  hear  what  they  were  saying  to  each 
other.  I  felt  suddenly  lonely.  They  were  getting  on 
very  well  without  me.  I  went  on  by  myself  and  in- 
spected my  melon  frames.  I  left  them  after  a  while 
and  took  a  look  at  my  poultry  yard. 

The  rearing  of  poultry  is  one  of  the  things  which  I 
do  in  order  to  benefit  my  country.  Quite  ordinary 
chickens  satisfy  my  personal  needs,  and  the  egg  of  the 
modest  barndoor  fowl  is  all  I  ask  at  breakfast-time. 
But  an  energetic  young  lady  in  a  short  tweed  skirt  and 
thick  brown  boots  explained  to  me  two  years  ago  that 
Ireland  would  be  a  much  happier  country  if  everybody 
in  it  kept  fowls  with  long  pedigrees.  She  must  have 
been  right  about  this,  because  the  government  paid  her 
a  small  salary  to  go  round  the  country  saying  it;  and 
no  government,  not  even  ours,  would  pay  people  to 
say  what  is  not  true.  Her  plan  for  introducing  the  su- 
perior hens  into  the  homes  of  the  people  was  that  I 
should  undertake  the  care  of  such  birds  as  she  sent 
me,  and  give  their  eggs,  under  certain  conditions,  to 
any  one  who  asked  for  them.  This  I  agreed  to  do,  and 
my  new  fowl  yard,  arranged  exactly  as  the  young  lady 
in  thick  boots  wished,  is  my  latest  effort  in  patriotism. 

The  hens  which  inhabited  it  were  very  fine-looking 
birds,  and  the  cock  who  dominated  them  was  a  credit 
to  any  government.  I  watched  them  with  real  pleasure 
for  some  time.  Then  it  occurred  to  me  as  curious 
that  a  government  which  recognized  the  value  of  good 
blood  in  birds,  bulls,  boars,  horses,  and  even  bees  — 
if  bees  have  blood  —  should  be  not  only  indifferent  but 
actually  hostile  to  our  human  aristocracy.  For  years 


THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER  37 

past  animals  of  pedigree  have  been  almost  forced  upon 
Ireland.  Men  of  pedigree  have  as  far  as  possible  been 
discouraged  from  remaining  in  this  country.  This 
idea  struck  me  as  very  suitable  for  one  of  my  light 
newspaper  articles.  I  was  unwilling  to  lose  grip  of  it 
and  allow  it  to  fade  away  as  Malcolmson  and  his  can- 
nons had  faded  the  night  before.  I  took  a  sheet  of 
paper  and  a  pencil  from  my  pocket  and  sat  down  on  a 
stone  to  make  a  rough  draft  of  the  article.  Before  I 
had  written  three  sentences  I  heard  Marion's  voice. 

"  Oh,  there  you  are,  father.  We  were  looking  for 
you  everywhere.  Mr.  Power  and  I  want  you  to  come 
and  play  tennis  with  us." 

I  rose  and  stuffed  my  paper  into  my  pocket.  I  felt 
quite  glad  that  they  had  found  me,  although  I  do  not 
care  for  playing  tennis,  and,  as  a  rule,  enjoy  writing 
articles. 

"  You  will  get  on  much  better  without  me,"  I  said. 

"  Oh  no,"  said  Marion ;  "  Mr.  Power  is  sure  to  beat 
me  in  a  single ;  but  I  think  I'd  have  a  pretty  good  chance 
if  you  are  on  his  side." 

I  was  to  act  as  a  handicap.  My  efforts  to  help 
Power  were  reckoned  to  be  worth  one,  perhaps  two 
strokes  in  every  game  for  Marion.  This  was  not  com- 
plimentary to  me;  but  I  dare  say  my  tennis  deserves 
no  more  respectful  treatment.  I  agreed  to  be  a  handi- 
cap, and  I  was  a  good  one.  Marion  won  the  first  set. 
I  got  exceedingly  hot,  but,  up  to  the  middle  of  the 
second  set,  I  enjoyed  myself.  Then  Godfrey  ap- 
peared. He  watched  my  efforts  with  an  air  of  cold 
superiority  and  contemptuous  surprise.  My  heart 
failed  me  and  I  was  obliged  to  ask  to  be  allowed  to 
stop. 


38  THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER 

Bob  Power  invited  us  to  lunch  on  the  Finola.  Mar- 
ion accepted  the  invitation  joyfully.  Godfrey  also 
accepted,  although  I  do  not  think  Power  meant  to  ask 
him.  But  Godfrey  is  not  the  kind  of  man  to  miss  the 
chance  of  getting  into  touch,  however  remotely,  with 
any  one  as  rich  as  Conroy.  Power  eyed  him  with  an 
expression  of  frank  dislike.  Godfrey,  it  seemed  to 
me,  did  not  much  like  Power.  He  was  probably  an- 
noyed at  the  way  in  which  Power  made  himself  agree- 
able to  Marion.  Godfrey  regarded  Marion  as,  in  a 
sense,  his  property,  although  there  was  nothing  in  the 
way  of  an  engagement  between  them. 

McNeice,  whom  I  had  hoped  to  meet,  was  not  on 
the  yacht.  The  steward  explained  to  us  that  he  was 
spending  the  day  with  Crossan.  I  could  see  that  the 
thought  of  any  one  spending  the  day  with  Crossan 
outraged  Godfrey's  sense  of  decency.  By  way,  I  sup- 
pose, of  annoying  Power,  he  asked  what  had  been  hap- 
pening on  the  Finola  at  twelve  o'clock  the  night  be- 
fore. 

"  I  was  awakened  up,"  he  said,  "  by  the  noise  of 
carts  going  along  the  street  and  I  looked  out.  I  could 
see  lights  on  the  yacht  and  on  the  pier.  What  on 
earth  were  you  doing  at  that  time  of  night  ?  " 

"  Coaling,"  said  Power,  shortly. 

It  was  plain  to  me  that  he  disliked  being  asked  ques- 
tions. It  must  have  been  plain  to  Godfrey,  too,  for  he 
immediately  asked  another. 

"  How  did  you  get  coal  in  a  place  like  this  ?  " 

"  Dear  me,"  said  Marion,  "  how  very  unromantic ! 
I  thought  you  were  smuggling !  " 

Godfrey's  face  assumed  an  expression  of  quite  un- 
usual intelligence.  He  suspected  Power  of  evil  prac- 


THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER  39 

tices  of  some  sort.  Marion's  suggestion  of  smuggling 
delighted  him. 

"  But  where  did  you  get  the  coal  ?  "  he  persisted. 

"  My  dear  Godfrey,"  I  said,  "  for  all  you  or  I  know 
there  may  be  hundreds  of  tons  of  it  piled  up  in  the 
co-operative  store.  Crossan  has  a  wonderful  business 
instinct.  He  may  have  speculated  on  a  visit  from 
some  large  steamer  and  be  making  a  large  profit.  I 
am  the  principal  shareholder,  and  nothing  pleases  me 
better  than  to  see  the  store  succeeding." 

I  knew,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  that  Crossan  had  no 
coal.  I  also  knew  that  the  Finola  was  not  coaling. 
The  carts  were  loaded  when  they  were  going  up  the 
hill.  They  would  have  been  empty  if  they  had  been 
going  to  get  coal  for  the  Finola.  I  made  my  remark 
in  the  hope  of  discouraging  Godfrey  from  asking  more 
questions. 

"  I  wish  you  would  smuggle  something,"  said  Mar- 
ion. "  I  should  love  to  have  some  French  lace  laid 
at  my  door  in  a  bale  in  the  middle  of  the  night." 

Marion  reads  novels,  and  the  smugglers  in  these 
import  French  lace.  In  real  life  the  only  people  who 
try  to  cheat  the  nation  out  of  its  duty  on  lace  are 
tourist  ladies,  and  they  would  not  share  their  spoils 
with  Marion. 

"  But  why  did  you  coal  in  the  middle  of  the  night  ?  " 
said  Godfrey. 

One  of  Godfrey's  most  striking  characteristics  is  his 
persistent  curiosity.  There  is  hardly  anything  in  the 
world  which  Godfrey  will  not  find  out  if  he  is  given 
time.  A  secret  has  the  same  attraction  for  him  that 
cheese  has  for  a  mouse.  Some  day,  I  hope,  he  will 
find  a  trap  baited  with  a  seductive  mystery. 


40  THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER 

"  We  always  coal  at  night,"  said  Power. 

"  Of  course,"  said  Marion,  "  the  dirt  shows  so  much 
less  at  night  than  it  would  in  daylight." 

"  But,"  said  Godfrey,  "  I  don't  understand  why 
you  — " 

I  rose  and  said  that  we  must  go  ashore.  I  invited 
Power  to  dinner,  and  urged  him  to  bring  McNeice  with 
him  if  possible.  I  made  it  quite  plain  that  I  was  not 
inviting  Godfrey.  Power  accepted  the  invitation,  and 
sent  us  off  in  a  boat.  I  said  good-bye  firmly  to  God- 
frey at  the  end  of  the  pier.  I  was  annoyed  with  him 
for  cross-questioning  our  host  at  his  own  table.  Mar- 
ion and  I  walked  home.  Godfrey  walked  up  the  hill 
towards  the  co-operative  store.  I  am  sure  he  did  not 
want  to  see  Crossan.  I  cannot  suppose  that  he  would 
venture  to  catechise  McNeice.  I  expect  he  meant  to 
prowl  round  the  premises  in  hopes  of  discovering  casks 
of  smuggled  brandy  or  cases  full  of  tobacco. 

McNeice  came  to  dinner,  and  I  am  bound  to  say 
that  I  found  myself  very  nearly  in  agreement  with 
Godfrey's  opinion  of  him.  He  was  a  singularly  ill- 
mannered  man.  Power  devoted  himself  to  Marion,  and 
I  felt  at  once  that  their  conversation  was  not  of  a  kind 
that  was  likely  to  be  interesting  either  to  McNeice  or 
me.  They  were  talking  about  ski-ing  and  skating  in 
Switzerland.  McNeice  made  no  effort  to  talk  at  all. 
He  sucked  his  soup  into  his  mouth  with  a  loud  hissing 
noise,  and  glared  at  me  when  I  invited  him  to  admire 
our  scenery.  His  fish  he  ate  more  quietly,  and  I  took 
the  opportunity  of  reminding  him  of  our  corre- 
spondence about  St.  Patrick.  The  subject  roused  him. 

"  There  are,"  he  said,  "  seventeen  different  theories 
about  the  place  of  that  man's  birth." 


THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER  41 

I  knew  nine  myself,  my  own,  of  which  I  was  a  little 
proud,  being  the  ninth.  I  did  not  expect  McNeice  to 
deliver  a  harangue  on  the  whole  seventeen,  but  that  is 
what  he  did.  Having  bolted  his  fish,  he  began  in  a 
loud,  harsh  voice  to  pour  contempt  on  all  attempts  at 
investigating  the  early  history  of  our  national  saint. 
He  delayed  our  progress  through  dinner  a  good  deal, 
because  he  would  neither  refuse  nor  help  himself  to 
the  entree  which  my  butler  held  at  his  elbow.  It  was 
not  until  he  had  finished  with  the  whole  seventeen 
theories  about  the  saint  that  he  turned  his  attention  to 
dinner  again.  I  ventured  to  suggest  that  he  had  not 
even  mentioned  my  own  theory. 

"  Oh,"  he  said,  "  you  have  a  theory  too,  have  you  ?  " 

My  theory,  at  the  time  of  its  first  appearance,  occu- 
pied ten  whole  pages  of  the  Nineteenth  Century,  and 
when  republished,  with  notes,  in  pamphlet  form,  was 
reviewed  by  two  German  papers.  I  felt  hurt  by  his 
ignorance  of  it,  and  reminded  him  again  that  we  had 
corresponded  about  the  subject  while  I  was  writing 
the  article. 

"  If  you've  time  to  waste  on  that  sort  of  thing,"  he 
said,  "  why  not  devote  it  to  living  bishops  instead  of 
one  who  has  been  dead  over  a  thousand  years  ?  " 

The  idea  of  investigating  the  origins  of  our  existing 
bishops  was  new  to  me  but  not  in  the  least  attractive. 

"  Wouldn't  it  be  rather  waste  of  labour,"  I  said, 
"  to  build  up  an  hypothesis  about  the  birthplace  of  a 
living  bishop  when  — " 

"  It's  certainly  waste  of  labour  to  build  up  an  hy- 
pothesis about  a  dead  one." 

"  I  meant  to  say,"  I  added,  "  that  if  one  did  want 
to  know  such  a  thing — " 


42  THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER 

"  Nobody  does,"  said  McNeice. 

"  It  would,"  I  went  on,  "  be  much  simpler  to  write 
and  ask  him." 

I  gathered  from  the  way  in  which  he  spoke  that 
McNeice  did  not  like  bishops;  but  I  was  not  prepared 
for  the  violence  of  the  speech  which  he  made  to  me 
after  dinner.  Marion  and  Power  were  at  the  piano, 
which  stands  in  a  far-off  corner  of  my  rather  over- 
sized drawing-room.  McNeice  settled  himself  in  front 
of  the  fire,  his  long  legs  straddled  far  apart,  the  bow  of 
his  white  tie  twisted  under  his  ear.  He  is  a  man  of 
singularly  ferocious  appearance.  He  has  very  bushy 
eyebrows  which  meet  across  the  bridge  of  his  nose, 
shining  green  eyes,  a  large  jaw  heavily  underhung,  and 
bright  red  hair. 

He  addressed  me  for  more  than  half  an  hour  on 
the  subject  of  bishops  in  general.  I  should  be  very 
sorry  to  write  down  the  things  he  said.  Some  of  them 
were  quite  untrue.  Others  were  utterly  unjust.  It  is 
quite  wrong,  for  instance,  to  impute  it  as  a  crime  to  a 
whole  class  of  men  that  their  heads  are  bald.  Nobody 
can  help  being  bald  if  his  hair  will  not  grow  any  more 
than  he  can  help  being  fat  if  his  stomach  will  swell. 
Fatness  was  another  of  the  accusations  which  McNeice 
hurled  against  the  bishops.  I  suppose  this  violent 
hatred  of  an  inoffensive  class  of  men  was  partly  the 
result  of  McNeice's  tremendous  Protestantism.  The 
poet  Milton,  I  think,  felt  in  the  same  way  about  the 
prelates  of  his  day.  Partly  it  may  have  been  the  ex- 
pression of  his  naturally  democratic  temperament. 
Bishops  like  to  be  called  "  my  lord  "  by  servants  and 
clergymen.  McNeice,  I  imagine,  has  a  quite  evangeli- 
cal dislike  of  such  titles.  I  dare  say  that  it  was  the 


THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER  43 

fact  of  my  being  a  lord  which  made  him  so  rude  to 
me. 

On  the  afternoon  of  my  garden-party  I  happened  to 
be  standing  close  beside  Lady  Moyne  when  she  was 
saying  good-bye  to  the  Dean.  Her  final  remark  was 
addressed  quite  as  much  to  him  as  to  me. 

"  What  we  have  got  to  do,"  she  said,  "  is  to  make 
use  of  this  virile  democracy  of  ours;  to  mould  it  into 
an  instrument  for  the  preservation  of  social  order. 
The  introduction  of  the  Home  Rule  Bill  gives  us  just 
about  the  chance  we  want." 

I  found  myself  wondering,  while  the  diatribe  against 
the  bishops  was  in  full  swing,  whether  Lady  Moyne 
would  succeed  in  moulding  McNeice  into  a  weapon 
for  her  hand.  It  seemed  to  me  more  probable  at  the 
moment  that  McNeice  would  in  the  end  tumble  her 
beautiful  head  from  the  block  of  a  guillotine  into  the 
basket  of  sawdust  which  waited  underneath. 

Marion  and  Bob  Power  were  singing  songs  from 
Gilbert  and  Sullivan's  operas  while  McNeice  preached 
to  me.  They  at  least  were  having  an  enjoyable  even- 
ing. I  dare  say  McNeice  enjoyed  himself  too.  If  so, 
my  dinner-party  was  not  given  in  vain.  One  cannot 
reasonably  expect  more  than  three  out  of  every  four 
people  to  be  happy  at  the  same  time.  It  was  my  mis- 
fortune that  I  happened  to  be  the  fourth. 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE  Finola  steamed  out  of  our  bay  next  morning. 
Marion  saw  her  go,  and  became  quite  lyrical  at 
breakfast  about  the  beauty  of  her  "  lines,"  a  word 
which,  as  applied  to  the  appearance  of  a  yacht,  she  can 
only  have  learned  from  Bob  Power.  I  was  not  able 
to  share  her  rapture  because  the  Finola  went  out  at 
6  a.  m.,  an  hour  at  which  I  make  it  a  settled  rule  to  be 
in  bed.  Marion  is  generally  in  bed  at  6  a.  m.  too.  She 
made  an  exceptional  effort  that  morning. 

For  a  week  I  enjoyed  almost  unbroken  peace,  and 
accumulated  quite  a  large  sheaf  of  notes  for  my  work 
on  the  Irish  Rebellions.  Even  Godfrey  refrained  from 
worrying  me.  But  such  happiness  was  too  good  to 
last  long.  On  Saturday  morning  three  things  hap- 
pened, every  one  of  them  of  a  disturbing  kind.  I  re- 
ceived a  letter  from  Lady  Moyne  in  which  she  invited 
me  to  spend  three  days  during  the  following  week  at 
Castle  Affey.  Castle  Affey  is  Lord  Moyne's  chief  Irish 
place.  He  has  three  others  in  various  parts  of  the 
country  and  one  in  England.  It  is  about  ten  miles 
from  my  home.  Lady  Moyne  invited  Marion  too;  but 
this  was  evidently  an  after  thought,  and  she  discounted 
the  value  of  the  invitation  by  saying  that  her  party  was 
to  consist  almost  entirely  of  men  and  might  be  dull  for 
Marion.  I  suspected  politics  at  once,  and  advised  Mar- 
ion to  refuse  the  invitation.  I  accepted  it.  Politics 
bore  me  a  good  deal;  but  it  is  interesting  to  watch 


THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER  45 

politicians  at  their  game.  It  is  also  pleasant,  very 
pleasant,  to  be  in  the  company  of  Lady  Moyne.  The 
prospect  of  the  visit  was  as  I  have  said  disturbing.  I 
prefer  monotony.  But  if  things  must  fall  splashing 
into  the  pool  of  my  life,  I  would  as  soon  they  took  the 
form  of  visits  to  Castle  Affey  as  any  other. 

The  next  thing  which  happened  that  morning  was  a 
deputation.  It  consisted  of  six  out  of  the  twenty  cart- 
ers whom  Crossan  has  organized  in  the  interests  of  our 
fishing  industry.  They  made  the  modest  request  that 
I  should  drive  my  nephew  Godfrey  out  of  the  neigh- 
bourhood. I  felt  the  strongest  possible  sympathy  with 
them.  If  I  were  a  carter,  a  fisherman,  a  shopkeeper, 
or  a  farmer,  and  lived  in  Kilmore,  I  should  certainly 
wish  Godfrey  to  live  somewhere  else.  I  did  not  even 
question  the  members  of  the  deputation  about  their 
special  reasons  for  wanting  to  get  rid  of  Godfrey. 
They  told  me  in  general  terms  that  he  was  interfering 
in  business  which  was  "  none  of  his."  I  wanted  no 
evidence  in  support  of  such  a  statement.  Godfrey  al- 
ways interferes  in  everything.  A  very  freckled  young 
man  who  seemed  to  be  junior  member  of  the  deputa- 
tion, added  that  Godfrey  "  spied "  upon  them.  Of 
course  Godfrey  spied  on  them.  He  spies  on  me. 

Strong  as  my  sympathy  was  with  the  perfectly  rea- 
sonable request  of  the  deputation,  I  could  not  act  as  I 
was  asked.  Godfrey  is,  of  course,  in  my  employment. 
He  collects  the  head  rents  still  payable  to  me  from 
some  parts  of  the  town  which  were  not  sold  when  I 
parted  with  the  rest  of  my  estate.  For  this  I  pay  him 
£200  a  year.  I  could,  I  suppose,  dismiss  him  if  I 
chose ;  but  the  plain  fact  is  that  if  I  dismissed  Godfrey 
he  would  immediately  starve  or  go  to  the  workhouse. 


46  THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER 

He  is  quite  unfit  to  earn  his  living  in  any  way.  Once, 
after  great  exertions,  I  secured  for  him  a  kind  of 
minor  clerkship  in  a  government  office.  His  duties, 
so  far  as  I  was  able  to  learn,  were  to  put  stamps  on 
envelopes,  and  he  was  provided  with  a  damp  sponge  to 
prevent  any  injury  which  might  happen  to  his  tongue 
through  licking  the  stamps.  At  the  end  of  a  year  he 
was  dismissed  as  hopelessly  incompetent.  He  came 
back  to  me,  beautifully  dressed,  with  a  small  despatch- 
box  full  of  tradesmen's  bills,  and  a  grievance  against 
the  government.  It  was  plain  to  me  after  that  experi- 
ment that  Godfrey  could  never  earn  his  own  living.  I 
did  not  see  my  way  to  let  him  drift  into  the  workhouse. 
He  is,  little  as  I  like  him,  the  heir  to  my  title,  and,  in 
mere  decency,  I  could  not  allow  the  cost  of  his  support 
to  fall  on  the  rates. 

This  is  just  one  of  the  ways  in  which  the  democratic 
spirit  of  independence  has  affected  us  all  without  our 
knowing  it.  In  the  seventeenth  century  any  member 
of  the  aristocracy  who  was  afflicted  with  an  heir  like 
Godfrey  had  him  shut  up  in  the  Bastille,  or  the  Tower, 
by  means  of  lettres  de  cachet  or  whatever  corresponded 
to  such  instruments  in  England.  There  the  objection- 
able young  man  ate  bread  and  drank  water  at  the  ex- 
pense of  the  public  funds.  Nobody  seems  to  have 
suffered  any  discomfort  at  the  thought  that  the  cost  of 
the  support  of  his  relative  was  falling  either  on  the 
rates  or  the  taxes.  (I  am  not  sure  which  it  was  but  it 
must  have  been  one  or  the  other.)  Nowadays  we  are 
horribly  self-conscious  in  such  matters.  The  debili- 
tated labourer  began  it,  objecting,  absurdly,  to  being 
fed  by  other  people  in  the  workhouse.  His  spirit 
spread  to  the  upper  classes,  and  it  is  now  impossible, 


THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER  47 

morally,  for  me,  a  peer,  to  send  my  heir  to  the  work- 
house. Fortunately  public  opinion  is  swinging  round 
again.  The  latest  type  of  working-man  has  no  objec- 
tion to  receiving  an  Old  Age  Pension,  and  likes  to  hear 
of  his  children  being  given  free  breakfasts  at  school. 
In  time  this  new  feeling  will  soak  through  to  the  class 
to  which  I  belong.  Then  I  shall  be  able,  without  a 
qualm,  to  send  Godfrey  to  the  workhouse.  At  present, 
I  regret  to  say,  I  cannot. 

I  explained  all  this  carefully  to  the  deputation.  It 
pained  me  to  have  to  say  no  to  their  request,  but  I  said 
it  quite  firmly.  My  decision,  I  think,  was  understood. 
My  feelings  I  fear  were  not. 

Very  soon  after  the  deputation  left,  Godfrey  himself 
arrived.  He  wanted  me  to  dismiss  Crossan.  I  am  not 
at  all  sure  that  I  could  dismiss  Crossan  even  if  I  wanted 
to  do  so.  He  is  the  manager  of  our  co-operative  store, 
and  although  most  of  the  money  which  went  to  the 
starting  of  that  enterprise  was  mine  there  is  a  con- 
siderable number  of  small  shareholders.  Crossan  also 
runs  the  fishing  business  and  our  saw  mill.  I  capital- 
ized both  these  industries,  lending  money  to  the  men 
to  buy  nets  and  good  boats,  and  buying  the  various  saws 
which  are  necessary  to  the  making  of  planks.  This  no 
doubt  gives  me  some  hold  over  Crossan,  but  not  enough 
to  enable  me  to  dismiss  him  as  I  might  a  cook.  Besides, 
I  do  not  want  to  dismiss  Crossan.  He  is  managing 
these  different  enterprises  in  such  a  way  that  they  earn 
fair  interest  on  the  capital  I  put  into  them. 

"  I've  been  looking  into  things  a  bit,  Excellency," 
said  Godfrey. 

I  quite  believed  that.  The  deputation  of  carters  said 
the  same  thing  in  other  words. 


4* 

"  And  you'll  find  yourself  in  an  awkward  place  one 
of  these  days  if  that  fellow  Crossan  is  allowed  to  go 
on  as  he's  going." 

"  I  hope  you're  not  going  to  drag  up  that  dispute 
about  the  carters,  Godfrey.  I'm  sick  of  it." 

The  dispute  about  the  carters  is  really  an  unpleasant 
business.  As  originally  organized  there  were  eight 
Protestant  carters  and  four  Roman  Catholics.  A  year 
ago  Crossan  dismissed  the  four  Roman  Catholic  cart- 
ers, and  one  of  the  Protestants  who  was  suspected  of 
religious  indifference.  Their  places  were  filled  by  five 
Orangemen  of  the  most  determined  kind.  Now  the 
profits  of  this  carting  business  are  considerable.  The 
five  men  who  were  dismissed  appealed  to  Godfrey. 
Godfrey  laid  their  case  before  me.  I  gathered  that 
Godfrey  had  a  high  opinion  of  the  outcasts  who  always 
spoke  to  him  with  the  respect  due  to  his  position.  He 
had  a  low  opinion  of  the  five  interlopers  who  were 
men  of  rude  speech  and  democratic  independence  of 
manner.  I  was  foolish  enough  to  speak  to  Crossan 
about  the  matter.  He  met  me  with  a  blunt  assertion 
that  it  was  impossible  to  trust  what  he  called  "  Pa- 
pishes."  There,  as  a  lover  of  peace  rather  than  justice, 
I  wanted  to  let  the  matter  rest;  but  Godfrey  took  up 
the  subject  again  and  again  in  the  course  of  the  fol- 
lowing year.  He  persisted,  not  out  of  any  love  for 
justice  though  this  once  he  was  on  the  side  of  justice, 
but  simply  out  of  hatred  of  Crossan. 

"  It's  not  only  the  dismissal  of  those  carters,"  said 
Godfrey.  "  There's  a  great  deal  more  behind  that. 
There's  something  going  on  which  I  don't  understand." 

"  If  you  don't  understand  it,"  I  said,  "  you  can't  ex- 
pect me  to." 


THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER  49 

"  Look  here,  Excellency,  you  remember  the  time  that 
yacht  of  Conroy's,  the  Finola,  was  in  here  ?  " 

"  Of  course  I  do.  You  went  and  left  my  cards  on 
Bob  Power." 

"  I'm  very  sorry  now  that  I  did.  There's  something 
fishy  about  that  yacht.  What  was  she  doing  on  the 
night  she  was  here  ?  " 

"  Coaling,"  I  said ;  "  I  don't  see  why  I  should  dis- 
miss Crossan  because  Conroy's  yacht  came  in  here  for 
coal." 

"  She  wasn't  coaling,"  said  Godfrey. 

I  knew  that,  of  course;  so  I  said  nothing,  but  left 
Godfrey  to  develope  his  grievance  whatever  it  was. 

"  Ever  since  that  night,"  said  Godfrey,  "  there  has 
been  something  or  other  going  on  in  the  yard  behind 
the  stores.  Those  carters  are  in  it,  whatever  it  is,  and 
a  lot  more  men,  fishermen  and  young  farmers.  They're 
up  there  every  night." 

"  Probably  dancing,"  I  said. 

"  Much  more  likely  to  be  drinking." 

"  I  wish  you  wouldn't  talk  nonsense,  Godfrey.  You 
know  perfectly  well  that  the  store  has  not  got  a  licence, 
and  there's  no  drink  sold  there.  Besides  Crossan  is  a 
fanatical  teetotaller." 

"  That  wouldn't  stop  him,"  said  Godfrey,  "  if  he 
could  sell  the  stuff  cheap  and  make  money  on  it ;  if  " — 
here  he  sank  his  voice — "  if  it  hadn't  paid  duty." 

Now  Crossan  is  one  of  those  Christians  who  has 
added  to  the  original  Ten  Commandments  a  Mohamme- 
dan prohibition  of  alcohol  in  any  form.  Godfrey,  I  have 
no  doubt,  would  break  any  of  the  commandments  which 
he  recognized,  if  he  saw  his  way  to  making  a  small  profit 
on  the  sin.  But  I  did  not  think  that  even  a  25  per  cent. 


50  THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER 

dividend  would  tempt  Crossan  to  disregard  his  self- 
imposed  prohibition  of  alcohol. 

"  That's  all  nonsense,"  I  said.  "  In  the  first  place  the 
Finola  didn't  come  in  here  to  land  a  cargo  of  smuggled 
goods." 

"  Then  what  did  she  come  for  ?  " 

I  did  not  know,  so  I  ignored  Godfrey's  question. 

"  And  in  the  second  place  Crossan  wouldn't  debauch 
the  whole  place  by  making  the  men  drunk  night  after 
night  on  smuggled  spirits.  Why,  only  three  weeks  ago 
he  spoke  to  me  seriously  about  the  glass  of  claret  I 
drink  at  dinner.  He  did  it  quite  respectfully  and  en- 
tirely for  my  good.  I  respected  him  for  it." 

"  He's  up  to  some  mischief,"  said  Godfrey,  sulkily, 
"  and  it  won't  be  too  pleasant  for  you,  Excellency, 
when  the  Inland  Revenue  people  find  out,  and  you  are 
let  in  for  a  prosecution.  I  tell  you  that  every  night  for 
the  last  week  men  have  been  going  up  to  that  store  after 
dark,  twenty  or  thirty  of  them,  truculent,  disrespectful 
blackguards  out  of  the  Orange  Lodge.  I've  watched 
them." 

"  Did  you  watch  them  coming  out  again  ?  " 

"  I  did,  twice,"  said  Godfrey.  "  They  didn't  go  home 
till  nearly  one  o'clock  in  the  morning.  I  couldn't  stop 
up  every  night,  so  I  only  saw  them  twice." 

"  Well,"  I  said,  "  were  they  drunk?  " 

"  No,"  said  Godfrey,  unwillingly,  "  they  were  not. 
They  walked  quite  straight." 

"  That  explodes  your  theory  then.  If  they  had  been 
drinking  smuggled  spirits  for  hours  and  hours,  they 
would  have  been  drunk." 

"  They  were  at  some  mischief,"  said  Godfrey. 

"  They  were  probably  getting  up  a  concert,"  I  said. 


THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER  51 

"  No,  they  weren't,  for  — " 

"  Look  here,  Godfrey,"  I  said,  "  I've  listened  to  you 
pretty  patiently  for  a  long  time;  but  I  really  cannot 
spare  you  the  whole  morning.  If  you  have  anything 
to  do  I  wish  you'd  go  and  do  it.  If  you  haven't  you'd 
better  go  to  bed  and  sleep  off  your  absurd  suspicions." 

One  has  to  speak  very  plainly  to  Godfrey.  Hints 
are  simply  wasted  on  him.  Even  after  my  last  re- 
mark he  hesitated  for  a  moment.  Then  he  turned  and 
went. 

I  felt  in  the  mood  to  write  a  short  story  which  I 
have  had  in  my  mind  for  some  time.  I  very  often 
write  short  stories;  but  have  never  yet  got  an  editor 
who  cares  to  print  any  of  them.  The  one  I  had  in 
my  mind  when  Godfrey  left  me  was,  however,  likely 
to  be  particularly  good.  It  was  to  be  the  autobiography 
of  a  murderer;  not  an  ordinary  murderer  who  slays 
through  desire  of  gain  or  in  obedience  to  an  inborn 
criminal  instinct.  My  murderer  was  to  be  a  highly 
respectable,  God-fearing  man,  a  useful  citizen,  a  good 
father,  a  man  of  blameless  life  and  almost  blameless 
thoughts,  generous,  high-principled,  beloved.  He  was 
to  slay  his  victim  with  one  of  the  fire-irons  on  his 
hearth.  The  murderous  impulse  was  to  take  possession 
of  him  quite  suddenly  but  with  absolutely  irresistible 
force.  He  was  to  kill  a  man  who  had  been  boring  him 
for  hours.  My  intention  was  to  write  the  story  in 
such  a  way  as  to  win  public  sympathy  for  my  mur- 
derer and  to  make  every  one  feel  that  the  dead  man 
deserved  his  fate.  I  meant  to  model  the  dead  man  on 
my  nephew  Godfrey. 

I  still  think  that  a  very  good  short  story  might  be 
written  along  those  lines,  but  I  doubt  whether  I  shall 


52  THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER 

ever  write  it.  I  wrote  about  two  thousand  words  that 
morning  before  I  was  interrupted  by  the  luncheon  gong. 
I  was  unable  to  go  on  writing  after  luncheon  because 
the  conversation  I  had  with  Marion  distracted  my  mind 
and  turned  my  thoughts  to  another  subject. 

"  Father,"  she  said,  "  do  you  think  that  Mr.  Power 
could  really  have  been  smuggling  things  in  that  yacht  ?  " 

"  No,"  I  said ;  "  he  couldn't  possibly." 

"  It's  very  queer,"  said  Marion. 

"What's  queer?" 

"  Oh,  nothing.  Only  this  morning  Rose  had  a  new 
gold  brooch,  quite  a  handsome  one." 

Rose  is  Marion's  maid,  a  pleasant  and  I  believe  ef- 
ficient girl  of  agreeable  appearance. 

"  Even  if  Mr.  Power  was  smuggling,"  I  said,  "  it's 
exceedingly  unlikely  that  he'd  bring  in  a  cargo  of  gold 
brooches  to  give  to  the  servants  in  the  district." 

"Oh,  I  didn't  mean  that,"  said  Marion.  "In  fact 
Rose  told  me  that  her  young  man  gave  her  the  brooch. 
He's  a  very  nice,  steady  young  fellow  with  a  freckly 
face  and  he  drives  one  of  the  carts  for  Crossan." 

He  must,  I  suspect,  be  the  same  young  man  who  ac- 
cused Godfrey  of  being  a  spy.  If  so  he  is  evidently  a 
judge  of  character,  and  his  selection  of  Rose  as  a  sweet- 
heart is  a  high  compliment  to  her. 

"  He  promised  her  a  gold  bracelet  next  week,"  said 
Marion,  "  and  Rose  is  very  mysterious  about  where  he 
gets  the  money." 

"  As  long  as  he  doesn't  steal  it  from  me,"  I  said,  "  I 
don't  care  where  he  gets  it." 

"  It's  very  queer  all  the  same.  Rose  says  that  a  lot 
of  the  young  men  in  the  village  have  heaps  of  money 


THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER  53 

lately,  and  I  thought  it  might  have  something  to  do  with 
smuggling." 

This  is  what  distracted  my  mind  from  the  story  of 
the  man  who  murdered  Godfrey.  I  could  not  help  won- 
dering where  Rose's  young  man  and  the  others  got 
their  money.  They  were,  I  assumed,  the  same  young 
men  who  frequented  the  co-operation  store  during  the 
midnight  hours.  It  was,  of  course,  possible  that  they 
might  earn  the  money  there  by  some  form  of  honest 
labour.  But  I  could  not  imagine  that  Crossan  had 
started  one  of  those  ridiculous  industries  by  means  of 
which  Government  Boards  and  philanthropic  ladies 
think  they  will  add  to  the  wealth  of  the  Irish  peasants. 
Besides,  even  if  Crossan  had  suddenly  developed  symp- 
toms of  kindly  idiocy,  neither  wood-carving  or  lace- 
making  could  possibly  have  made  Rose's  freckly  faced 
young  man  rich  enough  to  buy  a  gold  brooch.  The 
thing  puzzled  me  nearly  as  much  as  did  the  Finola's 
midnight  activity. 


CHAPTER  VII 

ALL  competent  critics  appear  to  agree  that  art  ought 
to  be  kept  entirely  distinct  from  moral  purposes. 
A  picture  meant  to  urge  us  on  to  virtue  —  and  there 
are  such  pictures  —  is  bad  art.  A  play  or  a  novel  with 
a  purpose  stands  condemned  at  once.  The  same  canon 
of  criticism  must,  I  suppose,  apply  to  parties  of  all 
kinds,  dinner-parties,  garden-parties,  or  house-parties. 
A  good  host  or  hostess  ought,  like  the  painter  and  the 
novelist,  to  aim  at  making  her  work  beautiful  in  itself ; 
and  should  not  have  behind  the  hospitality  a  cause  of 
any  kind,  charitable  or  political. 

I  myself  dissent,  humbly,  of  course,  from  this  view. 
Pictures  like  Time,  Death  and  Judgment  —  I  take  it 
as  an  example  of  the  kind  of  picture  which  is  meant 
to  make  us  good  because  I  once  saw  it  hung  up  in  a 
church  —  appeal  to  me  strongly.  I  do  not  like  novels 
which  aim  at  a  reform  of  the  marriage  laws;  but  that 
is  only  because  sex  problems  bore  me  horribly.  I  enjoy 
novels  written  with  any  other  purpose.  I  hate  parties, 
such  as  those  which  Godfrey  instigates  me  to  give, 
which  have  no  object  except  that  of  merely  being  par- 
ties, the  bare  collection  together  of  human  beings  in 
their  best  clothes.  I  was,  therefore,  greatly  pleased 
when  I  discovered  that  my  original  guess  was  right  and 
that  Lady  Moyne's  party  was  definitely  political.  I 
found  this  out  when  I  arrived  in  the  drawing-room 
before  dinner.  I  was  a  little  too  early  and  there  was 

54 


THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER  55 

no  one  in  the  room  except  Moyne.  He  shook  hands 
with  me  apologetically  and  this  gave  me  a  clue  to  the 
nature  of  the  entertainment  before  me.  He  dislikes 
politics  greatly,  and  would  be  much  happier  than  he  is 
if  he  were  allowed  to  hunt  and  fish  instead  of  attend- 
ing to  such  business  as  is  carried  on  in  the  House  of 
Lords.  But  a  man  cannot  expect  to  get  all  he  wants 
in  life.  Moyne  has  a  particularly  charming  and  clever 
wife  who  enjoys  politics  immensely.  The  price  he 
pays  for  her  is  the  loss  of  a  certain  amount  of  sport  and 
the  endurance  of  long  periods  of  enforced  legislative 
activity. 

"  I  ought  to  have  told  you  before  you  came,"  he  said, 
"  that  —  well,  you  know  that  my  lady  is  very  strongly 
opposed  to  this  Home  Rule  Bill." 

Moyne  is  fifteen  years  or  so  older  than  his  wife. 
He  shows  his  respect  for  her  by  the  pretty  old-fash- 
ioned way  in  which  he  always  speaks  of  her  as  "  my 
lady." 

"  The  fact  is,"  he  went  on,  "  that  the  people  we  have 
with  us  at  present — " 

"Babberly?"  I  asked. 

Moyne  nodded  sorrowfully.  Babberly  is  the  most 
terrific  of  all  Unionist  orators.  If  his  speeches  were 
set  to  music,  the  orchestra  would  necessarily  consist 
entirely  of  cornets,  trumpets  and  drums.  No  one  could 
express  the  spirit  of  Babberly's  oratory  on  stringed  in- 
struments. Flutes  would  be  ridiculous. 

"  Of  course,"  said  Moyne,  still  apologetically,  "  it 
really  is  rather  a  crisis  you  know." 

"  It  always  is,"  I  said.  "  I've  lived  through  seventy 
or  eighty  of  them." 

"  But  this  is  much  worse  than  most,"  he  said.    "  A 


56  THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER 

man  called  Malcolmson  arrived  this  afternoon,  a  col- 
onel of  some  sort.  Was  in  the  artillery,  I  think." 

"  You  read  his  letter  in  The  Times,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  did.  But  I  needn't  tell  you,  Kilmore,  that 
that  kind  of  thing  is  all  talk.  My  wife  — " 

"  I  fancy  Lady  Moyne  would  look  well  as  vivandiere" 
I  said,  "  marching  in  front  of  an  ambulance  waggon 
with  a  red  cross  on  it." 

Moyne  looked  pained.  He  is  very  fond  of  Lady 
Moyne  and  very  proud  of  her.  This  is  quite  natural. 
I  should  be  proud  of  her  too  if  she  were  my  wife. 

"  Her  idea,"  said  Lord  Moyne,  "  is  — " 

Just  then  our  Dean  came  into  the  room.  His  pres- 
ence emphasised  the  highly  political  nature  of  the  party. 
Unless  she  had  asked  Crossan,  Lady  Moyne  could  not 
have  got  hold  of  any  one  of  more  influence  with  our 
north  of  Ireland  Protestant  democracy.  The  Dean 
cannot  possibly  be  accustomed  to  the  kind  of  semi- 
regal  state  which  is  kept  up  at  Castle  Affey.  I  should 
be  surprised  to  hear  that  he  habitually  dresses  for  din- 
ner. It  was  only  natural,  therefore,  that  he  should 
be  a  little  overawed  by  the  immensity  of  the  rooms  and 
the  number  of  footmen  who  lurk  about  the  halls  and 
passages.  When  he  began  explaining  to  me  the  extreme 
iniquity  of  the  recent  Vatican  legislation  about  mixed 
marriages,  he  spoke  in  a  quite  low  voice.  As  a  rule 
this  subject  moves  the  Dean  to  stridency;  but  the 
heavy  magnificence  of  Castle  Affey  crushed  him  into 
a  kind  of  whisper.  This  encouraged  me.  If  the  Dean 
had  been  in  his  usual  condition  of  vigour,  I  should 
not  have  ventured  to  do  anything  except  agree  with 
him  heartily.  Feeling  that  I  might  never  catch  him 
in  a  subdued  mood  again,  I  seized  a  chance  of  expressing 


THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER  57 

my  own  views  on  the  mixed  marriage  question.  It 
seems  to  me  that  the  whole  difficulty  about  the  validity 
of  these  unions  might  be  got  over  by  importing  a  few 
priests  of  the  Greek  Church  into  Ireland.  The  Vatican, 
I  believe,  recognizes  that  these  Orientals  really  are 
priests.  The  Protestants  could  not  reasonably  object 
to  their  ministrations  since  they  refuse  to  acknowledge 
the  jurisdiction  of  the  Pope.  A  mixed  marriage  per- 
formed by  one  of  them  would,  therefore,  be  valid  in 
the  opinion  of  the  ecclesiastical  advisers  of,  let  us  say, 
the  bridegroom.  It  would  be  quite  unobjectionable  to 
those  responsible  for  the  soul  of  the  bride.  I  put  my 
plan  as  persuasively  as  I  could;  but  the  Dean  did  not 
seem  to  see  any  merit  in  it.  Indeed  I  have  never  met 
any  one  who  did.  That  is  the  great  drawback  to  trying 
to  help  the  Irish  nation  out  of  its  difficulties.  No  one 
will  ever  agree  to  a  reasonable  compromise. 

I  took  Lady  Moyne  in  to  dinner  and  enjoyed  myself 
very  much.  She  was  —  as  indeed  she  always  is  — 
beautifully  dressed.  Although  she  talked  a  good  deal 
to  Babberly  who  sat  on  the  other  side  of  her,  she  left 
me  with  the  impression  that  I  was  the  person  who 
really  interested  her,  and  that  she  only  turned  occa- 
sionally to  her  other  neighbour  from  a  sense  of  duty. 
Babberly  talked  about  Unionist  clubs  and  the  vigorous 
way  in  which  the  members  of  them  were  doing  dumb 
bell  exercises,  so  as  to  be  in  thoroughly  good  training 
when  the  Home  Rule  Bill  became  law.  The  subject 
evidently  interested  him  very  much.  He  has  a  long 
white  beard  of  the  kind  described  as  patriarchal.  When 
he  reaches  exciting  passages  in  his  public  speeches,  and 
even  when  he  is  saying  something  emphatic  in  private 
life,  his  beard  wags  up  and  down.  On  this  occasion 


58  THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER 

it  rose  and  fell  like  a  foamy  wave.  That  was  what 
convinced  me  that  he  was  really  interested  in  the  ac- 
tivity of  the  Unionist  clubs.  Lady  Moyne  smiled  at  him 
in  her  bewilderingly  bewitching  way,  and  then  turned 
round  and  smiled  at  me. 

"  But,"  I  said,  "  do  you  actually  mean  to  go  out  and 
do  battle?" 

"  It  won't  be  necessary,"  said  Babberly.  "  Once  the 
English  people  understand  that  we  mean  to  die  rather 
than  see  our  lives  and  liberties  — " 

"  Nowadays,"  said  Lady  Moyne,  "  when  the  indus- 
trial proletariate  is  breaking  free  from  all  control,  it 
is  a  splendid  thing  for  us  to  have  a  cause  in  which  we 
take  the  lead,  which  will  bind  our  working  classes  to 
us,  and  make  them  loyal  to  those  who  are  after  all  their 
best  friends  and  their  natural  leaders." 

I  quite  saw  Lady  Moyne's  point.  Crossan  would  not 
be  at  all  likely  to  follow  her  or  regard  her  as  his  best 
friend  in  ordinary  matters.  He  might  even  resent  her 
interference  with  his  affairs.  But  on  the  subject  of 
Home  Rule  Crossan  would  certainly  follow  any  one 
who  took  his  side  of  the  great  controversy.  If  Lady 
Moyne  wore  an  orange  sash  over  her  pretty  dresses 
Crossan  would  cheer  her.  While  Home  Rule  remained 
a  real  danger  he  would  refrain  from  asking  why  Lord 
Moyne  should  spend  as  much  on  a  bottle  of  champagne 
for  dinner,  as  would  feed  the  children  of  a  labourer  for 
a  week.  It  did  not  surprise  me  to  find  that  Lady 
Moyne  was  clever  enough  to  understand  Crossan.  I 
wanted  to  know  whether  Babberly  understood. 

"  But,"  I  said  to  him,  "  suppose  that  the  men  you  are 
enrolling  take  what  you  say  seriously  — " 


THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER  59 

"  I  assure  you,  Lord  Kilmore,"  said  Babberly,  "  we 
are  quite  serious." 

I  could  hear  Malcolmson  at  the  other  end  of  the 
table  explaining  to  Moyne  a  scheme  for  establishing 
a  number  of  artillery  forts  on  the  side  of  the  Cave 
Hill  above  Belfast  Lough.  His  idea  apparently,  was 
to  sink  any  British  warship  which  was  ill-advised 
enough  to  anchor  there  with  a  view  to  imposing  Home 
Rule  on  us.  Malcolmson,  at  all  events,  was  quite  seri- 
ous. 

"  It  will  never  come  to  fighting,"  said  Babberly 
again.  "  After  all,  the  great  heart  of  the  English  peo- 
ple is  sound.  They  will  never  consent  to  see  their 
brethren  and  co-religionists  handed  over  — " 

Lady  Moyne  turned  to  me  and  smiled  again.  I  am 
sixty  years  of  age,  but  her  smile  gave  me  so  much 
pleasure  that  I  failed  to  hear  the  rest  of  what  Babberly 
said. 

When  at  the  end  of  dinner  Lady  Moyne  left  us,  we 
congregated  round  the  other  end  of  the  table,  and  every- 
body talked  loud ;  everybody,  that  is,  except  Moyne  and 
me.  Moyne  looked  to  me  very  much  as  if  he  wanted 
to  go  to  sleep.  He  blinked  a  good  deal,  and  when  he 
got  his  eyes  open  seemed  to  hold  them  in  that  state 
with  considerable  effort.  I  did  not  feel  sleepy,  and 
became  more  and  more  interested  as  the  conversation 
round  me  grew  more  violent.  Babberly  talked  about 
a  campaign  among  the  English  constituencies.  He 
had  a  curious  and  quite  pathetic  faith  in  the  gullibility 
of  the  British  working-man.  Nobody  listened  much  to 
Babberly.  The  Dean  prosed  on  about  the  effects  of 
the  Ne  Temere  decree.  We  all  said  that  we  agreed 


60  THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER 

with  him,  and  then  stopped  listening.  Malcolmson  got 
on  to  field  guns,  and  had  an  elaborate  plan  for  train- 
ing gunners  without  actual  practice.  Babberly  did  not 
like  this  talk  about  artillery.  He  kept  on  saying  that 
we  should  never  get  as  far  as  that.  A  Mr.  Cahoon, 
who  came  from  Belfast,  and  spoke  with  the  same  kind 
of  .accent  as  McNeice,  prophesied  doleful  things  about 
the  paralyzing  of  business  under  a  Home  Rule  Parlia- 
ment. What  interested  me  was,  not  the  conversation 
which  beat  fiercely  on  my  ears,  but  the  personal  ques- 
tion, Why  had  Lady  Moyne  invited  me  to  this  party  ? 

I  am  constitutionally  incapable  of  becoming  excited 
about  politics,  and  have  therefore  the  reputation,  quite 
undeserved,  of  being  that  singular  creature,  a  Liberal 
peer.  Why,  being  the  kind  of  Gallio  I  am,  I  should 
have  been,  like  a  second  Daniel,  thrown  among  these 
lions,  I  could  not  understand.  They  were  not  the  least 
likely  to  convert  me  to  their  own  desperate  intensity 
of  feeling.  If  Lady  Moyne  wanted  to  convert  me  a  far 
better  plan  would  have  been  to  invite  me  to  her  house 
after  the  politicians  had  gone  away.  Circe,  I  imagine, 
did  not  attract  new  lovers  by  parading  those  whom  she 
had  already  turned  into  swine.  Nor  could  I  suppose 
that  I  had  been  brought  to  Castle  Affey  in  order  to  con- 
vert people  like  Malcolmson  to  pacific  ways  of  thought. 
In  the  first  place,  Lady  Moyne  did  not  want  him  con- 
verted. He  and  his  like  were  a  valuable  asset  to  the 
Conservative  party.  And  even  if  she  had  wanted  them 
converted  I  was  not  the  man  to  do  it.  I  am  mildly 
reasonable  in  my  outlook  upon  life.  To  reason  with 
Malcolmson  is  much  the  same  as  if  a  man,  meaning 
well,  were  to  offer  a  Seidlitz  powder  to  an  enraged 
hippopotamus. 


THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER  61 

It  was  not  until  next  day  that  I  found  a  solution  of 
my  problem.  Moyne  buttonholed  me  after  breakfast, 
and  invited  me,  rather  wistfully  I  thought,  to  go  round 
the  stables  with  him.  He  wanted  my  opinion  of  a  new 
filly.  I  went,  pursued  by  the  sound  of  the  Dean's 
voice. 

He  was  telling  the  story  of  a  famous  case  of  wife  de- 
sertion brought  about  by  the  Ne  Temere  decree.  He 
was  telling  it  to  Cahoon,  the  Belfast  manufacturer,  who 
must,  I  am  sure,  have  heard  it  several  times  before. 

I  used,  long  ago,  to  be  a  good  judge  of  horses.  I 
still  retained  my  eye  for  a  neat  filly.  Moyne's  latest 
acquisition  was  more  than  neat.  I  stroked  her  neck, 
and  patted  her  flanks  with  genuine  appreciation. 
Moyne  looked  quite  cheerful  and  babbled  pleasantly 
about  hunting.  Then  Lady  Moyne  came  through  the 
door  of  the  stable.  I  was  very  glad  to  see  her.  Her 
dress,  a  simple  brown  tweed,  suited  her  admirably,  and 
her  smile,  less  radiant,  perhaps,  than  it  was  the  night 
before  when  set  off  by  her  diamonds,  was  most  attrac- 
tive. Moyne,  too,  though  I  knew  that  he  did  not  want 
to  talk  politics,  was  glad  to  see  her.  She  came  into 
the  horse-box,  and  fondled  the  filly.  Then  she  sighed. 

"  What  a  lot  we  have  to  go  through  for  a  good 
cause !  "  she  said.  "  Those  terrible  men !  " 

"  Heavy  going,"  said  Moyne,  "  that  kind  of  thing  at 
breakfast.  Let's  take  out  the  new  car,  and  go  for  a 
spin." 

"  I  should  love  to,"  she  said,  "  but  I  must  not.  I  only 
ran  out  to  speak  to  you  for  a  minute,  Lord  Kilmore." 

Her  eyes  led  me  to  believe  at  dinner  the  night  before 
that  I  was  the  one  man  among  her  guests  that  she 
really  wanted  to  talk  to.  Now  her  lips  said  the  same 


62  THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER 

thing  plainly.  I  did  not  believe  it,  of  course;  but  I 
felt  quite  as  much  gratified  as  if  it  had  been  true. 

"  Mr.  Conroy  comes  this  afternoon,"  she  said. 

"  That  millionaire  fellow  ?  "  said  Moyne,  who  was 
evidently  not  well  up  in  the  list  of  his  visitors. 

"  And  I  want  you  to  take  him  in  hand,"  said  Lady 
Moyne  to  me  —  not  to  her  husband.  "  He's  very  clever, 
and  it's  most  important  to  get  him  interested  in  our 
movement." 

"  You'd  much  better  take  him  in  hand  yourself,"  I 
said.  "  If  any  one  could  interest  him* — " 

"  I  shall,  of  course ;  but  I  can't  always  be  with  him. 
I'm  dreadfully  afraid  that  if  Mr.  Babberly  talks  to 
him  —  but  you  know  what  Mr.  Babberly  is.  He's 
splendid  in  Parliament  and  on  a  platform;  perfectly 
splendid.  We've  nobody  like  him.  But  he  might  not 
quite  suit  Mr.  Conroy.  Then  poor  dear  Colonel  Mal- 
colmson  does  talk  such  nonsense.  Of  course  it's  very 
good  in  its  way,  and  I  do  hope  the  Liberals  will  lay 
to  heart  what  he  says  about  fighting  before  it's  too 
late  — ' 

"  Mr.  Conroy  is  a  business  man,"  I  said,  "  and  has  a 
reputation  for  shrewdness." 

"  That's  just  it,"  said  Lady  Moyne,  "  and  the  others 
—  the  Dean  and  that  curious  Mr.  Cahoon.  They're 
dears,  perfect  dears  in  the  way  they  stand  up  for  the 
Union  and  the  Empire,  but — "  She  shrugged  her 
shoulders,  and  smiled. 

"I  quite  understand,"  I  said;  "but,  after  all,  I'm 
rather  an  old  bore,  too." 

"  You !  "  said  Lady  Moyne.  "  You're  a  literary  man, 
and  that's  so  rare,  you  know,  in  our  class.  And,  be- 
sides, you're  a  Liberal.  I  don't  mean  in  any  offensive 


THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER  63 

sense  of  the  word;  only  just  that  you're  not  a  party 
man.  I  must  run  away  now ;  but  you  will  do  your  best 
with  Mr.  Conroy,  won't  you?  We  want  a  big  sub- 
scription from  him." 

The  Dean  caught  me  a  little  later  in  the  morning, 
and,  though  I  told  him  I  had  letters  to  write,  he  in- 
sisted on  explaining  to  me  that,  as  a  clergyman,  he  con- 
sidered it  wrong  to  take  any  active  part  in  politics. 

"  The  Church,"  he  said,  "  cannot  allow  herself  to  be- 
come attached  to  any  party.  She  must  stand  above  and 
beyond  party,  a  witness  to  divine  and  eternal  righteous- 
ness in  public  affairs." 

I  am,  on  the  whole,  glad  that  I  heard  the  Dean  say 
this.  I  should  certainly  have  believed  he  was  taking 
a  side  in  politics,  if  he  had  not  solemnly  assured  me 
that  he  was  not.  I  might  even  have  thought,  taking 
at  their  face  value  certain  resolutions  passed  by  its 
General  Synod,  that  the  Church  was,  more  or  less,  on 
the  side  of  the  Unionists,  if  the  Dean  had  not  ex- 
plained to  me  that  she  only  appeared  to  be  on  their 
side  because  they  happened  to  be  always  in  the  right, 
but  that  she  would  be  quite  as  much  on  the  side  of  the 
Liberals  if  they  would  only  drop  their  present  pro- 
gramme which  happened  in  every  respect  to  be  morally 
wrong.  This  cleared  my  mind  for  me,  and  I  felt  quite 
ready  to  face  Conroy  at  luncheon,  and  dispel  any  diffi- 
culties he  might  feel  about  the  Church  and  politics. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

MR.  CONROY  arrived  at  luncheon-time,  and  Lady 
Moyne  took  him  in  hand  at  once.  I  watched  her 
talking  to  him  during  the  meal  and  afterwards  when 
they  walked  together  round  the  lawn.  I  came  to  the 
conclusion  that  Lady  Moyne  would  have  no  difficulty 
in  obtaining  any  subscription  she  wanted  from  the  mil- 
lionaire. They  were,  of  course,  intimate  with  each 
other.  Lady  Moyne  had  been  Conroy's  guest  in  the 
days  when  his  London  house  was  a  centre  of  social  life. 
She  had  sailed  with  him  on  the  Finola.  But  this  was 
the  first  time  she  had  him  at  Castle  Affey ;  and  there- 
fore the  first  time  he  had  seen  Lady  Moyne  in  her  char- 
acter as  hostess.  It  is  not  to  be  wondered  at  that  he 
yielded  to  her  charm.  Like  all  women  of  real  capacity 
Lady  Moyne  was  at  her  best  in  her  own  house. 

But  she  was  too  clever  a  hostess  to  devote  herself 
entirely  to  one  guest.  She  took  Babberly  for  a  drive 
later  in  the  afternoon  and  I  felt  that  my  time  had  come. 
I  determined  to  be  true  to  my  trust  and  to  make  myself 
agreeable  to  Conroy.  Unfortunately  he  did  not  seem  to 
want  my  company.  He  went  off  for  a  long  walk  with 
Malcolmson.  This  surprised  me.  I  should  have  sup- 
posed beforehand  that  talk  about  artillery  would  have 
bored  Conroy;  and  Malcolmson,  since  this  Home  Rule 
struggle  began,  has  talked  of  nothing  else. 

I  spent  the  afternoon  with  Mr.  Cahoon,  and  we 
talked  about  Home  Rule,  of  course. 

64 


THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER  65 

"  What  those  fellows  want,"  he  said,  "  is  to  get  their 
hands  into  our  pockets.  But  it  won't  do." 

"  Those  fellows  "  were,  plainly,  the  Nationalist  lead- 
ers. 

"Taxation?"  I  said. 

"  Belfast  will  be  the  milch  cow  of  the  Dublin  Parlia- 
ment," said  Cahoon.  "  Money  will  be  wanted  to  feed 
paupers  and  pay  priests  in  the  south  and  west.  We're 
the  only  people  who  have  any  money." 

I  had  never  before  come  in  contact  with  a  man  like 
Cahoon,  and  I  was  very  much  interested  in  him.  His 
contempt,  not  only  for  our  fellow-countrymen  in  Lein- 
ster,  Munster  and  Connacht,  but  for  all  the  other  inhab- 
itants of  the  British  Isles  was  absolute.  He  had  a  way 
of  pronouncing  final  judgment  on  all  the  problems  of  life 
which  fascinated  me. 

"  That's  all  well  enough  in  its  way,"  he  would  say ; 
"  but  it  won't  do  in  Belfast.  We're  business  men." 

I  think  he  said  those  words  five  times  in  the  course 
of  the  afternoon,  and  each  time  they  filled  me  with 
fresh  delight.  If  the  man  had  been  a  fool  I  should 
not  have  been  interested  in  him.  If  he  had  been  a 
simple  crude  money  maker,  a  Stock  Exchange  Im- 
perialist, for  instance,  I  should  have  understood  him 
and  yawned.  But  he  was  not  a  fool.  A  man  cannot 
be  a  fool  who  manages  successfully  a  large  business, 
who  keeps  in  touch  with  the  swift  vicissitudes  of  mod- 
ern international  commerce,  who  has  organized  into  a 
condition  of  high  efficiency  an  industrial  army  of  sev- 
eral thousand  working-men  and  women.  And  Mr.  Ca- 
hoon, in  a  curious  hard  way,  was  touched  with  ideal- 
isms; I  discovered,  accidentally,  that  he  devotes  his 
spare  time  on  Saturdays  to  the  instruction  of  young 


66  THE  RED  HAND}  OF  ULSTER 

men  in  cricket  and  football.  His  Sunday  afternoons 
he  gives  to  an  immense  Bible-class  for  boys  of  fifteen 
or  sixteen.  He  has  built  and  maintains,  on  the  sole 
condition  that  he  does  not  actually  lose  money  by  it, 
a  kind  of  model  village  in  a  suburban  district  of  Bel- 
fast. In  order  to  look  after  this  village  properly  he 
gets  up  at  five  o'clock  in  the  morning  on  three  days 
in  the  week.  In  winter,  when  his  social  work  is  in 
full  swing,  he  spends  almost  all  his  evenings  at  a  large 
Working  Men's  club.  He  spends  his  summer  holidays 
in  the  seaside  camp  of  The  Boys'  Brigade.  It  would 
be  difficult  to  find  a  man  who  crams  more  work  into 
what  are  supposed  to  be  his  leisure  hours.  He  has, 
of  course,  little  time  for  reading  and  he  never  travels. 
His  devotion  to  good  works  leaves  him  no  opportunity 
for  culture,  and  accounts  for  the  fact  that  he  believes 
the  things  which  Babberly  says  on  platforms.  He 
would,  I  did  not  actually  try  him  with  the  subject,  but 
I  have  no  doubt  he  would,  have  brushed  the  philosophy 
of  Emmanuel  Kant  into  the  world's  waste-basket  with 
his  unvarying  formula:  It  wouldn't  do  in  Belfast. 
They  are  business  men  there. 

We  worried  on  about  his  fear  of  the  over-taxation 
of  Belfast  and  the  industrial  North.  I  tried  to  get 
from  him  some  definite  account  of  the  exact  taxes 
which  he  feared.  I  tried  to  get  him  to  explain  how 
he  proposed  to  fight,  against  whom  he  intended  to  fight, 
who  might  be  expected  to  fight  on  his  side.  I  do  not 
think  he  got  angry  with  me  for  my  persistency,  but 
his  contempt  for  me  steadily  increased.  I  am  not  a 
business  man  and  so  I  could  not  possibly,  so  he 
hinted,  understand  how  they  feel  about  the  matter  in 
Belfast. 


THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER  67 

"  But  do  you  think,"  I  said,  "  that  your  work-men 
will  go  out  and  be  shot  in  order  to  save  you  from  paying 
an  extra  penny  in  the  pound  income  tax  ?  That's  what 
it  comes  to,  you  know,  and  I  don't  see  why  they  should 
do  it.  They  don't  pay  income  tax,  or  for  that  matter 
death  duties." 

Cahoon  looked  me  full  in  the  face  for  nearly  half 
a  minute  without  replying.  Then  he  took  out  his  watch 
and  looked  at  it.  Then  he  took  me  by  the  arm  and  led 
me  towards  the  yard. 

"  Did  you  ever  see  the  Green  Loaney  Scutching 
Mill?  "he  said. 

I  had  never  seen  any  scutching  mill.  I  have  only  a 
vague  idea  of  what  a  scutching  mill  is. 

"  It'll  not  be  more  than  twenty  miles  from  this,"  said 
Cahoon.  "  And  in  my  car  we'll  do  it  and  be  back  for 
dinner." 

I  did  not  particularly  want  to  spend  the  rest  of  the 
afternoon  rushing  about  the  country  in  Gaboon's  motor 
car.  I  preferred  to  stay  quietly  on  the  Castle  Affey 
lawn  and  talk  about  Home  Rule. 

"  But  about  the  working-man,"  I  said,  "  and  the  pros- 
pect of  his  fighting  — " 

"  You'll  be  better  able  to  talk  about  that,"  said  Ca- 
hoon, "  when  you've  seen  the  man  I'm  going  to  take  you 
to.  Seeing's  believing." 

I  was,  of  course,  quite  willing  to  go  with  Cahoon  if 
he  would  really  show  me  a  citizen  soldier  in  a  scutching 
mill.  We  got  out  the  motor  car  and  started. 

"  He's  a  man  by  the  name  of  McConkey,"  said  Ca- 
hoon. 

"  A  good  name,"  I  said.  "  One  expects  something 
from  a  McConkey." 


68  THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER 

Gaboon  did  not  say  anything  for  about  ten  minutes. 
Then  he  went  on  — 

"  McConkey  is  foreman  in  the  mill." 

"  The  scutching  mill  I  "  I  asked. 

It  was,  of  course,  the  scutching  mill.  I  only  asked 
the  question  in  order  to  keep  up  the  conversation.  The 
long  silences  were  embarrassing.  Cahoon  did  not  an- 
swer me.  At  the  end  of  another  quarter  of  an  hour  of 
furious  driving  he  gave  me  a  little  further  information 
about  McConkey. 

"  He  neither  drinks  nor  smokes." 

This  led  me  to  think  that  he  might  be  some  relation  to 
my  friend  Crossan,  possibly  a  cousin. 

"  I  happen  to  know,"  said  Cahoon  a  little  later,  "  that 
he  has  upwards  of  £500  saved." 

Undoubtedly  McConkey  and  Crossan  are  close  rela- 
tions, brothers-in-law  perhaps. 

We  reached  the  Green  Loaney  Scutching  Mill  at  about 
half-past  five  o'clock.  Cahoon,  who  seemed  to  know 
all  about  the  establishment,  led  me  through  some  very 
dusty  purlieus.  McConkey,  when  we  came  upon  him, 
did  not  seem  particularly  pleased  to  see  Cahoon.  He 
looked  at  me  with  suspicious  malignity. 

"  There's  a  gentleman  here,"  said  Cahoon,  "  who 
wants  to  know  whether  you  mean  to  fight  rather  than 
submit  to  Home  Rule." 

"  Aye,"  said  McConkey,  "  I  do." 

Then  he  looked  me  square  in  the  face  without  wink- 
ing. Cahoon  did  the  same  thing  exactly.  Neither  of 
them  spoke.  It  was  clearly  my  turn  to  say  something ; 
but  with  four  hard  grey  eyes  piercing  my  skin  I  found 
it  difficult  to  think  of  a  remark.  In  the  end  I  said : 

"Really?" 


THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER  69 

They  both  continued  to  stare  at  me.  Then  McCon- 
key  broke  the  silence  again. 

"  You'll  no  be  a  Papist  ?  "  he  said. 

"  Certainly  not,"  I  replied.  "  In  fact  I  am  a  church- 
warden." 

McConkey  thrust  his  hand  deep  into  a  hip  pocket  in 
the  back  of  his  trousers  and  drew  out  a  somewhat  soiled 
packet  of  yellow  tracing  paper. 

"  Look  at  thon,"  he  said. 

I  unfolded  the  tracing  paper  and  found  on  it  draw- 
ings of  a  machine  gun.  Cahoon  peered  over  my  shoul- 
der. 

"  She's  a  bonny  wee  thing,"  said  McConkey. 

She  looked  to  me  large  and  murderous.  Cahoon  ex- 
pressed his  admiration  for  her,  so  I  said  nothing. 

"  I'll  no  be  that  badly  off  for  something  to  fight  with," 
said  McConkey,  "  when  the  time  comes." 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say,"  I  said,  "  that  you've  bought 
that  weapon  ?  " 

"  I  haven't  her  bought  yet,"  said  McConkey ;  "  but  I 
have  the  money  by  me." 

"  And  you  actually  mean  — "  I  said. 

"  Ay.     I  do." 

I  looked  at  Cahoon.  He  was  still  studying  the  draw- 
ings of  the  gun. 

"  It'll  be  queer,"  said  McConkey,  slowly,  "  if  she 
doesna'  land  a  few  of  them  in  hell  before  they  have 
me  catched." 

I  turned  to  Cahoon  again. 

"Do  you  really  think,"  I  said,  "that  he  —  ?" 

"  We're  business  men,"  said  Cahoon,  "  and  we  don't 
throw  away  our  money." 

"  But,"  I  said,  "  who  are  you  going1  to  shoot  at  ?    It 


7o  THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER 

would  be  silly  to  attack  a  tax  collector  with  a  gun  like 
that.  I  don't  see  who  — " 

"  Oh,"  said  Cahoon,  "  don't  fret  about  that.  We'll 
find  somebody  to  shoot  at." 

"  There'll  be  plenty,"  said  McConkey,  "  when  the  time 
comes." 

"  The  real  difficulty,"  said  Cahoon,  "  is  that  — " 

"  They'll  no  be  wanting  to  stand  up  till  us,"  said  Mc- 
Conkey. 

The  relations  of  Capital  with  Labour  are,  I  under- 
stand, strained  in  other  parts  of  the  United  Kingdom. 
Here,  with  Home  Rule  on  the  horizon,  they  seem  to  be 
actually  cordial.  There  is  certainly  a  good  deal  to 
be  said  for  Lady  Moyne's  policy.  So  long  as  Cahoon 
and  McConkey  have  a  common  taste  for  making  do- 
mestic pets  of  machine  guns  they  are  not  likely  to  fall 
out  over  such  minor  matters  as  wages  and  hours  of 
work. 

I  had  a  good  deal  to  think  of  as  Cahoon  drove  me 
back  to  Castle  Afrey.  My  main  feeling  was  one  of  great 
personal  thankfulness.  I  shall  never,  I  hope,  take  part 
in  a  battle.  If  I  do  I  hope  I  shall  be  found  fighting 
against  some  properly  organized  army,  the  men  and 
officers  of  which  have  taken  up  the  business  of  killing 
in  a  lofty  professional  spirit.  I  cannot  imagine  any- 
thing more  likely  to  shatter  my  nerve  than  to  be  pitted 
against  men  like  McConkey,  who  neither  drink  nor 
smoke,  but  save  and  spend  their  savings  on  machine 
guns.  The  regular  soldier  has  his  guns  bought  for  him 
with  other  people's  money.  He  does  not  mind  much 
if  no  gory  dividend  is  earned.  McConkey,  on  the  other 
hand,  spends  his  own  money,  and  being  a  business  man, 


THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER  71 

will  hate  to  see  it  wasted.  He  would  not  be  satisfied, 
I  imagine,  with  less  than  fifty  corpses  per  cent,  as  a  re- 
turn on  his  expenditure. 

At  dinner  that  evening  Conroy  made  a  suggestion  for 
our  evening's  entertainment. 

"  Lady  Moyne,"  he  said,  "  ought  to  read  us  the 
speech  which  she  is  to  make  next  week  to  the  Unionist 
women." 

I  had  never  heard  of  the  Unionist  women  before,  and 
knew  nothing  of  their  wish  to  be  spoken  to.  The  Dean 
assured  me  that  they  were  numerous  and  quite  as  enthu- 
siastic as  their  husbands  and  brothers.  Cahoon  said 
that  he  was  giving  his  mill  hands  a  half  holiday  in  order 
that  the  girls  might  go  to  listen  to  Lady  Moyne.  Bab- 
berly  struck  in  with  a  characteristic  speech. 

"  The  influence  of  women,"  he  said,  "  can  hardly  be 
over-estimated.  We  must  never  forget  that  the  most 
impressionable  years  of  a  man's  life  are  those  during 
which  he  is  learning  to  say  his  prayers  beside  his  moth- 
er's knee." 

This,  as  I  recognized  was  a  mere  paraphrase  of  the 
proverb  which  states  that  the  hand  which  rocks  the 
cradle  rules  the  world.  The  secret  of  Babberly's  great 
success  as  an  orator  is  that  he  has  a  striking  power  of 
putting  platitudes  into  new  words. 

I  ventured  to  suggest  that,  so  far  as  the  present  po- 
litical situation  was  concerned  it  was  hardly  worth  while 
trying  to  get  at  the  children  who  were  learning  to  say 
their  prayers.  The  Home  Rule  Bill  would  be  either 
rejected  or  passed  long  before  any  of  that  generation 
had  votes.  Lady  Moyne  was  good  enough  to  smile  at 
me ;  but  Babberly  felled  me  at  once. 


72  THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER 

"  The  women  whom  we  expect  to  influence,"  he  said, 
"  have  fathers,  brothers  and  husbands  as  well  as  young 
children." 

After  dinner  we  had  the  speech.  A  secretary,  who 
had  once  been  Lady  Moyne's  governess  and  still  wore 
pince-nez,  brought  a  quantity  of  type-written  matter 
into  the  drawing-room.  Moyne  wanted  me  to  slip  away 
with  him  to  the  billiard  room;  but  I  refused  to  do  so. 
I  wanted  to  watch  Lady  Moyne  making  her  speech. 
I  am  glad  that  I  resisted  his  appeal.  Lady  Moyne 
not  only  read  us  the  speech.  She  delivered  it  to  us, 
treated  us,  indeed,  to  a  rehearsal,  I  might  even  call  it 
a  dress  rehearsal,  for  she  described  at  some  length  the 
clothes  she  intended  to  wear.  They  must  have  been  the 
most  sumptuous  in  her  wardrobe. 

"  The  poor  dears,"  she  said,  "  want  something  to 
brighten  their  lives.  Besides,  they'll  take  it  as  a  com- 
pliment to  them  if  I'm  like  Solomon  in  all  his  glory." 

I  gathered  from  this  remark  that  the  audience  was 
to  consist  mainly  of  the  wives  and  sisters  of  McConkey 
and  other  men  of  the  same  class.  Cahoon's  wife,  if  he 
had  one,  would  not  require  a  display  of  Lady  Moyne's 
best  clothes  to  seal  her  attachment  to  the  Union. 

The  speech  was  an  uncommonly  good  one.  A  phrase 
in  it  frequently  repeated,  appealed  to  me  very  strongly. 
Lady  Moyne  spoke  about  "  our  men."  I  do  not  know 
why  it  is,  but  the  phrase  "  our  women  "  as  used  for 
instance  by  military  officers  who  have  been  to  India, 
always  strikes  me  as  singularly  offensive.  It  suggests 
seraglios,  purdahs  and  other  institutions  by  which 
Turks,  and  Orientals  generally,  assert  and  maintain  the 
rights  of  property  with  regard  to  the  other  sex.  "  Our 
men,"  on  the  other  hand,  is  redolent  of  sentimental  do 


THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER  73 

mesticity.  I  never  hear  it  without  thinking  of  women 
who  are  mothers  and  makers  of  men ;  who  sew  on 
trouser  buttons  and  cook  savoury  messes  for  those  who 
are  fighting  the  battle  of  life  for  them  in  a  rough  world, 
sustained  by  an  abiding  vision  of  noble  womanhood 
and  the  sanctity  of  home.  It  is  an  extraordinarily  ap- 
pealing phrase  and  Lady  Moyne  used  it  for  all  it  was 
worth.  As  addressed  by  her  to  wives  and  sisters  of 
the  Belfast  working-men,  it  had  a  further  value.  The 
plural  possessive  pronoun  bracketed  McConkey  with 
Lord  Moyne.  McConkey's  wife,  assuming  for  the  mo- 
ment that  he  had  not  abstained  from  matrimony  as  he 
had  from  tobacco,  shared  his  joys  and  sorrows,  his 
hopes  and  fears,  heartened  him  for  his  daily  toil,  would 
join  no  doubt  in  polishing  the  muzzle,  of  the  machine 
gun.  So  Lady  Moyne  in  her  gorgeous  raiment,  sustained 
Lord  Moyne,  her  man.  That  was  the  suggestion  of 
the  possessive  pronoun,  and  the  audience  was  not  al- 
lowed to  miss  it.  Poor  Moyne  did  miss  it,  for  he  was 
nearly  asleep  in  a  chair.  But  McConkey's  wife  would 
not.  Her  heart  would  glow  with  a  sense  that  she  and 
Lady  Moyne  were  sisters  in  their  anxious  care  for  the 
men  entrusted  to  them. 

That  single  phrase  made  such  a  violent  emotional 
appeal  to  me  that  I  missed  all  the  rest  of  the  speech. 
Each  time  I  began  to  recover  a  little  from  hearing  it 
and  was  prepared  to  give  my  attention  to  something 
else,  Lady  Moyne  used  to  repeat  it,  and  then  I  was 
hypnotized  again.  I  have  no  doubt,  however,  that  the 
speech  was  a  powerful  appeal  for  the  maintenance  of 
the  Union.  Conroy  said  so  afterwards  and  Babberly 
entirely  agreed  with  him.  The  Dean  suggested  that 
something  might  be  put  in  about  the  sanctity  of  the 


74 

marriage  tie,  a  matter  of  particular  importance  to 
women  and  likely  to  be  seriously  affected  by  the  passing 
of  a  Home  Rule  Bill.  Lady  Moyne  thanked  him  for 
calling  her  attention  to  the  omission.  The  secretary, 
who  had  once  been  a  governess,  adjusted  her  pince-nez 
and  took  a  note. 

In  the  smoking-room  that  evening  Conroy  took  com- 
mand of  the  conversation,  and  for  the  first  time  since 
I  arrived  at  Castle  Affey  we  got  off  politics.  He  told 
us  a  good  deal  about  how  he  made  his  fortune.  Most 
men  who  have  made  fortunes  enjoy  talking  about  how 
they  made  them.  But  their  stories  are  nearly  always 
most  uninteresting.  My  impression  is  that  they  do 
not  themselves  understand  how  they  came  to  be  rich. 
But  Conroy  understood,  or  at  all  events  thought  he  un- 
derstood, his  own  success.  He  believed  that  he  was 
rich  because  he  had,  more  than  other  men,  a  love  of 
the  excitement  which  comes  with  risk.  He  had  the 
spirit  of  the  true  adventurer,  the  man  who  pursues 
novelty  and  danger  for  their  own  sakes.  Every  story 
he  told  us  illustrated  and  was  meant  to  illustrate  this 
side  of  his  character.  He  despised  the  rest  of  us,  es- 
pecially me  perhaps.  We,  Cahoon,  the  Dean,  even 
Malcolmson,  though  he  was  a  bristly  fighting  man,  cer- 
tainly Moyne  who  had  gone  quietly  to  bed  —  we  were 
tame  barndoor  fowls,  eating  the  sordid  messes  spread 
for  us  by  that  old  hen  wife,  civilized  society.  Conroy 
was  a  free  bird  of  the  wild.  He  snatched  golden  grain 
for  nutriment  from  the  hand  of  a  goddess.  These  were 
not  his  words  or  his  metaphors,  but  they  represented  the 
impression  which  his  talk  and  his  stories  left  on  my 
mind. 

At  twelve  o'clock  I  rose  to  say  good  night.     As  I  did 


THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER  75 

so  a  servant  entered  the  room  and  told  Conroy  that 
his  motor  was  ready  for  him  at  the  door.  Conroy  left 
the  room  at  once,  and  left  the  house  a  few  minutes 
later. 

I  suppose  we  ought,  all  of  us,  to  have  been  surprised. 
Motor  drives  in  the  middle  of  the  night  are  an  unusual 
form  of  amusement,  and  it  was  impossible  to  suppose 
that  Conroy  could  have  any  business  requiring  immedi- 
ate personal  attention  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Castle 
Affey.  But  his  talk  during  the  evening  had  left  its 
impression  on  other  minds  as  well  as  mine.  We  bid 
each  other  good  night  without  expressing  any  astonish- 
ment at  Conroy 's  conduct.  Cahoon  refrained  from  say- 
ing that  inexplicable  midnight  expeditions  were  not  the 
kind  of  things  they  cared  for  in  Belfast.  Even  he 
recognized  that  a  man  who  had  accumulated  as  large 
a  fortune  as  Conroy 's  must  not  be  judged  by  ordinary 
standards. 

I,  unfortunately,  failed  to  go  to  sleep.  I  tried  to  read 
the  works  of  Alexander  Pope,  of  which  I  found  a  well- 
bound  copy  in  my  bedroom.  But  my  mind  only  be- 
came more  active.  I  got  up  at  last  and  covered  six 
sheets  of  the  Castle  Affey  note  paper  with  a  character 
sketch  of  Conroy.  I  maintained  that  he  was  wrong 
in  supposing  that  a  capacity  for  daring  is  the  secret  of 
becoming  rich.  Bob  Power,  for  instance,  is  as  daring 
as  any  man  living  and  certainly  loves  risk  for  its  own 
sake,  but  Bob  will  not  die  a  rich  man.  Nor  will  Con- 
roy. Wealth  falls  into  the  hands  of  such  men  occa- 
sionally, as  vast  hoards  of  gold  did  one  hundred  and 
fifty  years  ago  into  the  holds  of  pirate  ships.  But  no 
one  ever  heard  of  a  buccaneer  who  died  with  a  large 
fortune  safely  invested.  Before  Conroy  dies  his  for- 


76  THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER 

tune  will  have  taken  to  itself  wings  and  fled  back  to  that 
goddess  of  his  who  gave  it.  This  was  the  substance  of 
my  article.  Marion  typed  it  out  for  me  when  I  went 
home,  but  neither  of  the  editors  who  usually  print  my 
articles  would  have  it.  I  suppose  that  they  did  not 
know  Conroy  personally.  If  they  had  known  him  they 
would  have  appreciated  my  character  sketch.  I  called 
it,  I  remember,  "  Our  Contemporary  Pirates,"  a  title 
which  ought  to  have  been  attractive. 

At  three  o'clock,  just  as  I  was  finishing  my  article, 
I  heard  Conroy's  motor  on  the  gravel  outside  my  win- 
dow. 

He  appeared  at  breakfast  looking  fresh  and  cheer- 
ful. None  of  us  asked  him  where  he  had  been  the 
night  before,  and  he  did  not  offer  us  any  information. 

After  breakfast  he  asked  me  to  go  for  a  walk  with 
him.  Lady  Moyne,  who  heard  the  invitation  given, 
looked  pleased,  and  I  recollected  at  once  that  I  had 
promised  to  interest  Conroy  in  the  Unionist  cause  and 
lead  him  on  to  the  point  of  giving  a  large  subscription 
to  our  funds. 

These  party  funds  have  always  been  rather  a  puzzle 
to  me.  I  have  never  understood  why  it  should  be 
necessary  for  rich  Liberals,  rich  Conservatives  and 
American  Irishmen  to  spend  enormous  sums  of  money 
in  persuading  people  to  vote.  The  theory  of  democratic 
government  is,  I  suppose,  that  the  citizen  expresses  his 
opinion  freely  in  a  polling  booth.  If  he  has  not  got  an 
opinion  it  would  surely  be  better  to  leave  him  alone.  If 
he  has  an  opinion  and  attaches  any  importance  to  it  he 
will  go  to  the;  polling  booth  without  being  dragged  there 
by  a  kind  of  special1  constable  hired  for  the  purpose. 
If  the  money  of  the  party  funds  were  given  to  the 


THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER  77 

voters  in  the  form  of  bribes,  the  expenditure  would  be 
intelligible.  It  might  even  be  justified;  since  an  occa- 
sional tip  would  be  most  welcome  to  nearly  every  elec- 
tor. But  to  spend  tens  of  thousands  of  pounds  on 
what  is  called  organization  seems  very  foolish.  How- 
ever I  am  not  a  practical  politician,  and  my  immediate 
object  was  not  to  explain  the  theory  of  political  finance 
to  Conroy,  but  to  work  him  up  into  the  frame  of  mind 
in  which  he  would  sign  cheques. 

I  cannot  flatter  myself  that  I  did  this  or  even  helped 
to  do  it.  Conroy  did  not  give  me  a  chance.  He  be- 
gan to  talk  about  the  Irish  land  question,  a  thing  in 
which  I  no  longer  take  any  but  an  academic  interest. 
He  asked  me  if  I  still  owned  a  small  estate  in  Co.  Gal- 
way  which  had  belonged  to  my  father.  I  told  him  that 
I  had  long  ago  sold  it  and  was  uncommonly  glad  to  do 
so. 

"  Not  a  paying  proposition  ?  "  said  Conroy. 

"  Oh,"  I  said,  "  it  paid  very  well ;  but  the  fact  is, 
what  with  the  agitation  about  grazing  lands,  and  the 
trouble  about  people  in  congested  districts — " 

"  I  reckon,"  said  Conroy,  "  that  your  ancestors  mis- 
managed the  property  some." 

I  expect  they  did.  But  I  did  not  expect  to  have  their 
misdeeds  brought  home  to  me  in  a  vigorous  personal 
way. 

"  Your  father,"  said  Conroy,  "  or  your  grandfather, 
turned  my  grandfather  off  a  patch  of  land  down  there 
in  1850." 

My  grandfather  had,  I  have  heard,  a  theory  that 
small  holdings  of  land  were  uneconomic.  He  evicted 
his  tenants  and  made  large  grass  farms.  Nowadays 
we  hold  the  opposite  opinion.  We  are  evicting  large 


78  THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER 

tenants  and  establishing  small  holdings.  Our  grand- 
sons, I  dare  say,  will  go  back  again  to  the  large  farms. 
I  explained  to  Conroy  that  he  ought  not  to  blame  my 
grandfather  who  was  acting  in  accordance  with  the 
most  advanced  scientific  theories  of  his  time. 

Conroy  was  very  nice  about  the  matter.  He  said 
he  had  no  grudge  against  either  me  or  my  grandfather. 
He  had,  however,  so  he  told  me  frankly,  a  prejudice 
against  everything  English;  an  inherited  prejudice,  and 
not  quite  so  irrational  as  it  looked.  It  was  after  all 
the  English  who  invented  the  economic  theories  on 
which  my  grandfather  acted.  He  talked  so  much  about 
his  dislike  of  England  and  everything  English  that  I 
did  not  like  to  introduce  the  subject  of  the  subscription 
to  Lady  Moyne's  political  fund.  He  did,  in  the  end, 
subscribe  largely.  When  I  heard  about  his  £1000 
cheque  I  supposed  that  he  must  have  counted  the  Un- 
ion with  us  a  misfortune  for  England  and  so  wished 
to  perpetuate  it.  Either  that  was  his  motive,  so  I 
thought,  or  else  Lady  Moyne  had  captivated  him  as  she 
always  captivates  me. 


CHAPTER  IX 

I  HAD  no  sooner  settled  down  quietly  at  home  and 
got  to  work  again  on  my  history  than  I  was  as- 
sailed by  Godfrey.  I  wish  very  much  that  he  was  Con- 
roy's  nephew  and  not  mine.  Conroy  goes  driving  in 
a  motor  in  the  middle  of  the  night,  so  he  must  like 
disturbances.  I  hate  them. 

"  I'm  sorry,  Excellency,  but  I  am  afraid  I  shall  have 
to  interrupt  you." 

Godfrey,  besides  being  objectionable  in  other  ways, 
is  a  liar.  He  is  not  sorry,  he  is  very  glad,  when  he  gets 
the  chance  of  interrupting  me.  I  should  resent  the 
disturbance  less  if  he  acknowledged  frankly  that  he 
enjoyed  annoying  me. 

"  It  can't  be  time,"  I  said,  "  for  another  garden-party 
yet;  but,  if  it  is,  I'd  rather  you  made  out  the  invitation 
list  yourself.  I'm  busy.  Besides  making  out  lists  is 
one  of  the  things  you're  good  at.  I  should  be  sure  to 
leave  out  somebody." 

"  I  don't  want  to  talk  about  garden-parties,"  said 
Godfrey.  "  This  is  something  much  more  serious." 

"  There's  no  use  coming  to  me  about  it,"  I  said.  "  I 
told  you  last  time  that  your  tailor  could  bring  you  into 
the  County  Court  if  he  liked.  I  shan't  pay  him  again." 

The  inference  was  a  natural  one.  Godfrey  had  said 
that  he  wanted  to  talk  about  something  more  important 
than  a  garden-party.  But  the  inference  was  wrong. 
Godfrey  looked  offended. 

79 


8o  THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER 

"  I  sent  Nicholson  and  Blackett  a  cheque  last  week," 
he  said. 

I  waited  patiently.  If  Godfrey's  business  had  noth- 
ing to  do  with  garden-parties  or  tailors'  bills,  I  could 
only  suppose  that  he  meant  to  make  some  fresh  com- 
plaint about  Crossan. 

"  Pringle  cashed  it  all  right,"  said  Godfrey,  after  a 
short  pause.  "  I  went  in  there  the  day  after  your  party 
and  played  tennis  with  his  daughter.  They  were  aw- 
fully pleased." 

I  dare  say  they  were.  People  attach  a  surprising 
amount  of  importance  to  Godfrey's  social  patronage. 
I  myself  should  be  more  inclined  to  cash  his  cheques 
for  him  if  he  stayed  away  from  my  house.  But  I  did 
not  want  to  argue  with  Godfrey  about  Pringle's  taste 
in  guests. 

"  What's  Crossan  been  doing  to  you  ? "  I  asked  at 
last. 

"  He  hasn't  been  doing  anything  to  me." 

"  Then  for  goodness'  sake,  Godfrey,  let  the  man 
alone." 

"  I  don't  like  the  way  he's  going  on." 

"  You  never  did.  There's  nothing  fresh  about  that. 
You've  complained  about  him  regularly  every  week  for 
five  years." 

This  was  an  exaggeration.  I  am  sometimes  away 
from  home  for  more  than  a  week  at  a  time  and  God- 
frey does  not  always  complain  about  Crossan  in  his 
letters. 

"  Look  here,  Excellency,"  said  Godfrey,  "  it's  far 
better  for  you  to  know  what  Crossan's  doing.  He's 
going  about  all  over  the  country  day  after  day.  He's 
got  a  motor  car." 


THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER  81 

I  can  quite  understand  that  Crossan's  owning  a  mo- 
tor car  must  have  a  very  irritating  effect  on  Godfrey. 
I  cannot  afford  to  keep  one.  That  any  one  else  in  the 
district  over  which  I  ought,  according  to  Godfrey's  the- 
ory, to  be  a  kind  of  king,  should  assume  a  grandeur 
impossible  for  me  is  simply  an  aggravated  kind  of  in- 
solence. No  wonder  that  Godfrey,  with  the  honour 
of  the  family  at  heart,  resented  Crossan's  motor  car.  I 
tried  to  soothe  him. 

"  It's  probably  quite  an  inferior  machine,"  I  said. 
"  It  will  break  down  soon." 

"  It's  not  only  that,"  said  Godfrey,  "  though  I  think 
Crossan  ought  to  stay  at  home  and  mind  his  business. 
He  must  be  neglecting  things.  But  —  I  wish  you'd 
walk  up  to  the  store  with  me,  Excellency.  Crossan's 
away." 

"  I'd  much  rather  go  when  Crossan's  at  home,"  I 
said ;  "  but,  of  course,  if  you  won't  leave  me  in  peace 
until  I  do,  I  may  as  well  go  at  once." 

I  got  my  hat  and  walking  stick.  On  the  way  up  to 
the  store  Godfrey  preserved  an  air  of  mysterious  im- 
portance. I  had  no  objection  whatever  to  his  doing 
this;  because  he  could  not  talk  and  look  mysterious  at 
the  same  time,  and  I  particularly  dislike  being  talked 
to  by  Godfrey.  I  expect  he  tried  to  be  dignified  with 
a  view  to  impressing  me,  but  just  before  we  reached  the 
store  he  broke  down  and  babbled  fatuously. 

"  Marion  told  me  yesterday,"  he  said,  "  that  she'd 
had  a  letter  from  that  fellow  Power." 

"  She  told  me  that  too,"  I  said. 

"  Well,  I  think  you  ought  to  put  a  stop  to  it.  It's  not 
right." 

"  My  dear  Godfrey,"  I  said,  "  you  appear  to  forget 


82  THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER 

that  he's  one  of  the  Powers  of  Kilfenora  and  private 
secretary  to  a  millionaire." 

This  twofold  appeal  to  the  highest  and  strongest 
feelings  which  Godfrey  possesses  ought  to  have  silenced 
him.  He  did,  I  think,  feel  the  force  of  what  I  said. 
But  he  was  not  satisfied. 

"  If  you  knew  all  that  was  going  on,"  he  said,  "  you 
wouldn't  like  it." 

We  reached  the  store.  The  young  woman  who  con- 
trols the  sale  of  miscellaneous  goods  was  alert  and 
smiling  behind  her  counter.  Whatever  Crossan  might 
be  doing  she  at  all  events  was  attending  to  her  business. 
Godfrey  took  no  notice  of  her.  He  led  me  through 
the  shop  to  the  yard  behind  it.  He  pushed  open  the  door 
of  one  of  the  outhouses. 

"  That  door  ought  to  be  locked,"  he  said. 

This  was  true.  I  was  somewhat  surprised  to  find  it 
open. 

"  I  forced  the  lock  this  morning,"  said  Godfrey, 
"  with  a  screw  driver." 

"  In  that  case,"  I  said,  "  you  can  hardly  blame  Cros- 
san for  its  being  open.  Why  did  you  do  it  ?  " 

"  I  wanted  to  see  what  he  had  inside,"  said  Godfrey, 
"  and  I  wanted  you  to  see." 

There  was  a  good  deal  inside.  In  fact  the  outhouse, 
a  large  building,  was  filled  from  floor  to  ceiling  with 
packing-cases,  some  of  them  very  large  indeed.  God- 
frey pointed  to  a  small  one  near  the  door. 

"  Just  lift  that  up,  will  you,  Excellency  ?  "  said  God- 
frey. 

"  No,  I  won't.  Why  should  I  ?  I'm  not  a  railway 
porter,  and  it  looks  heavy." 


THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER  83 

"  It  is  heavy.  Just  watch  me  for  a  moment  if  you 
don't  want  to  lift  it  yourself." 

Godfrey  with  evident  difficulty  lifted  the  packing- 
case,  staggered  a  few  steps  with  it  and  then  set  it  down. 
The  packing-case  may  have  been  heavy  but  it  was 
quite  small.  It  seemed  to  me  that  Godfrey  was  mak- 
ing a  rather  pitiful  exhibition  of  his  physical  feeble- 
ness. 

"  You  ought  to  do  things  with  dumb-bells,"  I  said. 
"  The  muscles  of  your  arms  are  evidently  quite  soft." 

Godfrey  took  no  notice  of  the  taunt.  He  was  in  a 
state  of  tremendous  moral  earnestness. 

"  I  want  your  permission  to  open  these  cases,"  he 
said. 

"  I  won't  give  you  any  such  permission,"  I  said. 
"  How  can  I  ?  They're  not  my  packing-cases." 

Godfrey  argued  with  me  for  quite  a  long  time,  but 
I  remained  firm.  For  some  reason  which  I  could  not 
understand,  Godfrey  was  unwilling  to  open  the  pack- 
ing-cases without  permission  from  somebody.  I  should 
have  supposed  that  having  already  forced  a  door  he 
would  not  have  boggled  at  the  lid  of  a  packing-case; 
but  he  did.  He  evidently  had  some  vague  idea  that 
the  law  takes  a  more  serious  view  of  smashing  packing- 
cases  than  it  does  of  housebreaking.  He  may  have 
been  right.  But  my  record  so  far  was  clear.  I  had 
not  forced  the  lock  of  the  door. 

"  What  do  you  suppose  is  in  those  cases  ?  "  said  God- 
frey. 

"  Artificial  manure,"  I  said. 

Our  store  does  a  large  business  in  artificial  manure. 
It  generally  comes  to  us  in  sacks,  but  there  is  no  reason 


84  THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER 

why  it  should  not  come  in  packing-cases.  It  is  tre- 
mendously heavy  stuff. 

"  Those  cases  were  landed  from  the  Finola,"  said 
Godfrey.  "  She  wouldn't  come  here  with  a  cargo  of 
artificial  manure." 

"If  you've  brought  me  all  the  way  up  here  to  accuse 
Conroy  of  smuggling,"  I  said,  "  you've  wasted  your 
own  time  and  mine." 

"  I  don't  accuse  Conroy  of  smuggling,"  said  God- 
frey. "  In  fact,  I'm  going  to  write  to  him  to-night  to 
tell  him  what's  going  on." 

"  Very  well,"  I  said.  "  You  can  if  you  like,  but 
don't  mix  my  name  up  with  it." 

We  walked  back  together  as  far  as  the  village.  God- 
frey was  silent  again.  I  could  see  that  he  still  had 
something  on  his  mind,  probably  something  which  he 
wanted  me  to  do.  He  kept  on  clearing  his  throat  and 
pulling  himself  together  as  if  he  were  going  to  say 
something  of  importance.  I  was  uncomfortable,  for 
I  felt  sure  that  he  intended  to  attack  me  again  about 
Marion's  correspondence  with  Bob  Power.  I  have 
never,  since  she  was  quite  a  little  girl,  interfered  with 
Marion's  freedom  of  action.  I  had  not  the  smallest 
intention  of  making  myself  ridiculous  by  claiming  any 
kind  of  authority  over  her,  especially  in  a  matter  so 
purely  personal  as  the  young  man  she  chose  to  favour. 
Besides,  I  like  Bob  Power.  At  worst  there  was  noth- 
ing against  him  except  his  smuggling,  and  smuggling 
is  much  less  objectionable  than  the  things  that  Godfrey 
does.  I  should  rather,  if  it  came  to  that,  have  a  son-in- 
law  who  went  to  prison  occasionally  for  importing 
spirits  without  consulting  the  government  than  one  who 
perpetually  nagged  at  me  and  worried  me.  But  I  did 


THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER  85 

not  want  to  provoke  further  arguments  by  explaining 
my  feelings  to  Godfrey.  I  was  therefore  rather  re- 
lieved when  he  finally  succeeded  in  blurting  out  what 
was  in  his  mind. 

"  I  hope,  Excellency,"  he  said,  "  that  you  will  take 
the  first  chance  you  get  of  speaking  to  Crossan." 

In  sudden  gratitude  for  escaping  a  wrangle  about 
Marion  and  Bob  Power  I  promised  hurriedly  that  I 
would  speak  to  Crossan.  I  was  sorry  afterwards  that 
I  did  promise.  Still,  I  very  much  wished  to  know  what 
was  in  the  packing-cases.  I  did  not  really  believe  it 
was  artificial  manure.  I  did  not  believe  either  that 
it  was  smuggled  brandy. 

My  chance  came  two  days  later.  I  met  Crossan  in 
the  street.  He  was  standing  beside  his  motor  car,  a 
handsome-looking  vehicle.  He  evidently  intended  to 
go  for  a  drive.  I  felt  at  once  that  I  could  not  ask  him 
a  direct  question  about  the  packing-cases.  I  deter- 
mined to  get  at  them  obliquely  if  I  could.  I  began  by 
admiring  the  motor. 

"  She's  good  enough,  my  lord,"  said  Crossan. 

He  is  a  man  of  few  words,  and  is  sparing  of  his 
praise.  "  Good  enough "  is,  from  Crossan,  quite  an 
enthusiastic  compliment. 

"If  your  lordship  would  care  about  a  drive  any  day," 
he  said,  "  it'll  be  a  pleasure  to  me." 

Crossan  always  interjects  "  my  lord "  and  "  your 
lordship  "  into  the  middle  of  the  remarks  he  makes  to 
me;  but  he  says  the  words  in  a  very  peculiar  tone.  It 
always  seems  to  me  that  he  wishes  to  emphasize  the 
difference  in  our  social  station  because  he  feels  that 
the  advantage  is  all  on  his  side.  "  The  rank,"  so  his 
tone  suggests,  "  is  but  the  guinea  stamp.  The  man  " — 


86  THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER 

that  is  in  this  case  Crossan  himself  — "  is  the  gowd  for 
a'  that." 

"  You  can  get  about  the  country  pretty  quickly  in 
that  car,"  I  said. 

Crossan  looked  at  me  with  a  perfectly  expression- 
less face  for  some  time.  Then  he  said  — 

"If  you  think,  my  lord,  that  I'm  neglecting  my  work, 
you've  only  to  say  so  and  I'll  go." 

I  hastened  to  assure  him  that  I  had  no  intention  of 
finding  fault  with  him  in  any  way.  My  apology  was 
as  ample  as  possible.  After  another  minute  spent  in 
silent  meditation  Crossan  expressed  himself  satisfied. 

"  It  suits  me  as  little  to  be  running  round  the  coun- 
try," he  said,  "  as  it  would  suit  your  lordship." 

"  I  quite  understand  that,"  I  said.  "  But  then  I 
don't  do  it.  You  do." 

"  It  has  to  be,"  said  Crossan. 

I  did  not  quite  see  why  it  had  to  be;  but  Crossan 
spoke  with  such  conviction  that  I  dared  not  contradict 
him  and  did  not  even  like  to  question  him.  Fortu- 
nately he  explained  himself. 

"  I'm  the  Grand  Master,  as  your  lordship  is  aware," 
he  said. 

"  Worshipful "  is  the  title  of  courtesy  applied  to 
Grand  Masters,  and  I'm  sure  no  one  ever  deserved  it 
better  than  Crossan. 

"  If  we're  not  ready  for  them,  my  lord,  they'll  have 
our  throats  cut  in  our  beds  as  soon  as  ever  they  get 
Home  Rule." 

"  They,"  of  course  were  the  "  Papishes,"  Crossan's 
arch  enemies. 

I  wanted  very  much  to  hear  more  of  his  activities 
among  the  Orangemen.  I  wanted  to  know  what  steps 


THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER  87 

he,  as  Grand  Master,  was  taking  to  prevent  cut-throats 
creeping  in  on  us  while  we  slept.  I  thought  I  might 
encourage  him  by  telling  him  something  he  would  be 
pleased  to  hear. 

"  McConkey,"  I  said,  "  who  is  foreman  in  the  Green 
Loaney  Scutching  Mill,  is  buying  a  splendid  quick-fir- 
ing gun." 

The  remark  did  not  have  the  effect  I  hoped  for.  It 
had  an  exactly  opposite  effect.  Crossan  shut  up  like  a 
sea  anemone  suddenly  touched. 

"  Your  lordship's  affairs  won't  be  neglected,"  he 
said  stiffly.  "  You  may  count  on  that." 

I  felt  that  I  could.  I  have  the  utmost  confidence  in 
Crossan's  integrity.  If  a  body  of  "  Papishes  "  of  the 
bloodiest  kind  were  to  come  upon  Crossan  and  capture 
him ;  if  they  were  to  condemn  him  to  death  and,  being 
God-fearing  men,  were  to  allow  him  half  an  hour  in 
which  to  make  his  soul;  he  would  spend  the  time,  not 
in  saying  his  prayers,  not  even  in  cursing  the  Pope, 
but  in  balancing  the  accounts  of  the  co-operative  store, 
so  that  any  auditor  who  took  over  the  books  afterwards 
might  find  everything  in  order. 

"  If  you  really  feel  it  to  be  your  duty,"  I  said,  "  to 
go  round  the  district  working  up — " 

"  You'll  have  heard  of  the  Home  Rule  Bill,  maybe," 
said  Crossan. 

I  had  heard  of  it,  several  times.  After  my  visit  to 
Castle  Affey  I  even  understood  it,  though  it  was  cer- 
tainly a  measure  of  great  complexity.  I  think  I  appre- 
ciated the  orthodox  Protestant  view  of  it  since  the  day 
I  talked  to  McConkey.  I  wanted  Crossan  to  realize 
how  fully  I  entered  into  his  feelings,  so  I  quoted  a 
phrase  from  one  of  Babberly's  speeches. 


88  THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER 

"  In  this  supreme  crisis  of  our  country's  destiny,"  I 
said,  "  it  is  the  duty  of  every  man  to  do  his  uttermost 
to  avert  the  threatened  ruin  of  our  common  Protestant- 
ism." 

That  ought  to  have  pacified  Crossan  even  if  it  did 
not  rouse  him  to  enthusiasm.  Huge  crowds  have 
cheered  Babberly  for  saying  these  moving  words.  But 
Crossan  received  them  from  me  in  sullen  silence. 

"  It  would  be  well,"  he  said  at  last,  "  if  your  lord- 
ship and  others  like  you  were  more  in  earnest." 

Crossan  is  not  by  any  means  a  fool.  I  have  occa- 
sionally been  tempted  to  think  he  is,  especially  when  he 
talks  about  having  his  throat  cut  at  night;  but  he  has 
always  shown  me  in  the  end  that  he  has  in  him  a  vein 
of  strong  common  sense.  He  recognized  that  I  was 
talking  bombast  when  I  spoke  about  the  supreme 
crisis;  but,  curiously  enough,  he  is  quite  convinced  of 
Babberly's  sincerity  when  he  says  things  of  that  sort. 

It  was  nearly  an  hour  after  Crossan  left  me  when 
I  recollected  that  I  had  not  found  out  anything  about 
the  packing-cases.  The  subject  somehow  had  not 
come  up  between  us,  though  I  fully  intended  that  it 
should.  Our  talk  about  Home  Rule  gave  me  no  clue 
to  what  was  in  the  cases.  I  could  scarcely  suppose 
that  they  were  full  of  gorgets  for  distribution  among 
Orangemen,  defensive  armour  proof  against  the  par- 
ticular kind  of  stabs  which  Crossan  anticipated. 

Godfrey  called  on  me  the  next  morning  in  a  white 
heat  of  righteous  indignation.  He  had  received  an 
answer  to  the  letter  which  he  wrote  to  Conroy.  Be- 
fore showing  it  to  me  he  insisted  on  my  reading  what 
he  called  his  statement  of  the  case.  It  occupied  four 
sheets  of  quarto  paper,  closely  type-written.  It  ac- 


THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER  89 

cused  Bob  Power  and  McNeice  of  using  the  Finola  for 
smuggling  without  the  owner's  knowledge.  It  made 
out,  I  am  bound  to  say,  quite  a  good  case.  He  had  col- 
lected every  possible  scrap  of  evidence,  down  to  Rose's 
new  brooch.  I  suppose  Marion  told  him  about  that. 
He  said  at  the  end  of  the  letter  that  he  had  no  motive 
in  writing  it  except  a  sincere  wish  for  Conroy's  wel- 
fare. This  was  quite  untrue.  He  had  several  other 
motives.  His  love  of  meddling  was  one.  Hatred  of 
Crossan  was  another.  Jealousy  of  Bob  Power  was  a 
third. 

"  Now  is  there  anything  objectionable  in  that  letter? 
Anything  that  one  gentleman  would  not  write  to  an- 
other?" 

I  admitted  that  on  the  whole  it  was  a  civil  letter. 

"  Now  look  at  his  answer,"  said  Godfrey. 

Conroy's  answer  was.  on  a  postcard.  It  consisted 
of  six  words  only. 

"  Do  not  be  a  damned  fool." 

"  Well,"  I  said,  "  that's  sound  advice  even  if  it's  not 
very  politely  expressed." 

"  Conroy's  in  it  too,"  said  Godfrey,  vindictively, 
"  and  I'll  make  them  all  sorry  for  themselves  before 
I've  done  with  them." 


I  FIND  by  consulting  my  diary  that  it  was  on  the 
30th  of  June  that  I  went  to  Dublin.  I  am  not 
often  in  Dublin,  though  I  do  not  share  the  contempt 
for  that  city  which  is  felt  by  most  Ulstermen.  Ca- 
hoon,  for  instance,  will  not  recognize  it  as  the  capital  of 
the  country  in  which  he  lives,  and  always  speaks  of 
Dublin  people  as  impractical,  given  over  to  barren  po- 
litical discussion  and  utterly  unable  to  make  useful 
things  such  as  ships  and  linen.  He  also  says  that 
Dublin  is  dirty,  that  the  rates  are  exorbitantly  high, 
and  that  the  houses  have  not  got  bath-rooms  in  them. 
I  put  it  to  him  that  there  are  two  first-rate  libraries  in 
Dublin. 

"  If  I  want  a  book,"  he  said,  "  I  buy  it.  We  pay 
for  what  we  use  in  Belfast.  We  are  business  men." 

"  But,"  I  explained,  "  there  are  some  books,  old  ones, 
which  you  cannot  buy.  You  can  only  consult  them  in 
libraries." 

"  Why  don't  you  go  to  London,  then  ? "  said  Ca- 
hoon. 

The  conversation  took  place  in  the  club.  I  lunched 
there  on  my  way  through  Belfast,  going  on  to  Dublin 
by  an  afternoon  train.  I  was,  in  fact,  going  to  Dublin 
to  consult  some  books  in  the  College  Library.  Marion 
and  I  had  been  brought  up  short  in  our  labours  on  my 
history  for  want  of  some  quotations  from  the  diary 
of  a  seventeenth-century  divine,  and  even  if  I  had  been 

90 


THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER  91 

willing  to  buy  the  book  I  should  have  had  to  wait 
months  while  a  second-hand  bookseller  advertised  for 
it. 

Trinity  College,  when  I  entered  the  quadrangle  next 
day,  seemed  singularly  deserted.  The  long  vacation 
had  begun  a  week  before.  Fellows,  professors  and 
students  had  fled  from  the  scene  of  their  labours. 
Halfway  across  the  square,  however,  I  met  McNeice. 
He  seemed  quite  glad  to  see  me  and  invited  me  to 
luncheon  in  his  rooms.  I  accepted  the  invitation  and 
was  fed  on  cold  ham,  stale  bread  and  bottled  stout. 

Thackeray  once  hinted  that  fellows  of  Trinity  Col- 
lege gave  their  guests  beer  to  drink.  Many  hard  words 
have  been  said  of  him  ever  since  by  members  of  Dub- 
lin University.  I  have  no  wish  to  have  hard  things 
said  about  me;  so  I  explain  myself  carefully.  Mc- 
Neice's  luncheon  was  an  eccentricity.  It  is  not  on  cold 
ham  solely,  it  is  not  on  stale  bread  ever,  that  guests  in 
the  Common  Room  are  fed.  If,  like  Prince  Hal,  they 
remember  amid  their  feasting  "  that  good  creature, 
small  beer,"  they  do  not  drink  it  without  being  offered 
nobler  beverages.  When  the  University,  in  recogni- 
tion of  my  labours  on  the  Life  of  St.  Patrick,  made  me 
a  doctor  of  both  kinds  of  law,  I  fared  sumptuously  in 
the  dining  hall  and  afterwards  sipped  port  rich  with 
the  glory  of  suns  which  shone  many  many  years  ago 
on  the  banks  of  the  upper  Douro. 

After  luncheon,  while  I  was  still  heavy  with  the 
spume  of  the  stout,  McNeice  asked  me  if  I  had  seen 
the  new  paper  which  was  being  published  to  express, 
I  imagine  also  to  exacerbate,  the  opinions  of  the  Ulster 
Unionists.  He  produced  a  copy  as  he  spoke.  It  was 
called  The  Loyalist. 


92 

"  We  wanted  something  with  a  bite  in  it,"  he  said. 
"  We're  dead  sick  of  the  pap  the  daily  papers  give  us 
in  their  leading  articles." 

Pap  is,  I  think,  a  soft  innocuous  food,  slightly  sugary 
in  flavour,  suitable  for  infants.  I  should  never  have 
dreamed  of  describing  the  articles  in  The  Belfast  News- 
letter as  pap.  An  infant  nourished  on  them  would 
either  suffer  badly  from  the  form  of  indigestion  called 
flatulence  or  would  grow  up  to  be  an  exceedingly  fero- 
cious man.  I  felt,  however,  that  if  McNeice  had  any- 
thing to  do  with  the  editing  of  The  Loyalist  its  articles 
would  be  of  such  a  kind  that  those  of  the  Newsletter 
would  seem,  by  comparison,  papescent. 

"  We're  running  it  as  a  weekly,"  said  McNeice, 
"  and  what  we  want  is  to  get  it  into  the  home  of  every 
Protestant  farmer,  and  every  workingman  in  Belfast. 
We  are  circulating  the  first  six  numbers  free.  After 
that  we  shall  charge  a  penny." 

I  looked  at  The  Loyalist.  It  was  very  well  printed, 
on  good  paper..  It  looked  something  like  The  Specta- 
tor, but  had  none  of  the  pleasant  advertisements  of 
schools  and  books,  and  much  fewer  pages  of  corre- 
spondence than  the  English  weekly  has. 

"  Surely,"  I  said,  "  you  can't  expect  it  to  pay  at  that 
price." 

"We  don't,"  said  McNeice.  "We've  plenty  of 
money  behind  us.  Conroy  —  you  know  Conroy,  don't 
you?" 

"  Oh,"  I  said,  "  then  Lady  Moyne  got  a  subscription 
out  of  him  after  all.  I  knew  she  intended  to." 

"  Lady  Moyne  isn't  in  this  at  all,"  said  McNeice. 
"We're  out  for  business  with  The  Loyalist.  Lady 


THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER  93 

Moyne's  —  well,  I  don't  quite  see  Lady  Moyne  running 
The  Loyalist." 

"  She's  a  tremendously  keen  Unionist,"  I  said. 
"  She  gave  an  address  to  the  working-women  of  Bel- 
fast the  week  before  last,  one  of  the  most  moving — " 

"  All  frills,"  said  McNeice,  "  silk  frills.  Your  friend 
Crossan  is  acting  as  one  of  our  agents,  distributing  the 
paper  for  us.  That'll  give  you  an  idea  of  the  lines 
we're  going  on." 

Crossan,  I  admit,  is  the  last  man  I  should  suspect 
of  being  interested  in  frills.  The  mention  of  his  name 
gave  me  an  idea. 

"  Was  it  copies  of  The  Loyalist,"  I  asked,  "  which 
were  in  the  packing-cases  which  you  and  Power  landed 
that  night  from  the  F'mola?" 

McNeice  laughed. 

"  Come  along  round  with  me,"  he  said,  "  and  see 
the  editor.  He'll  interest  you.  He's  a  first-rate 
journalist,  used  to  edit  a  rebel  paper  and  advocate  the 
use  of  physical  force  for  throwing  off  the  English  rule. 
But  he's  changed  his  tune  now.  Just  wait  for  me  one 
moment  while  I  get  together  an  article  which  I  prom- 
ised to  bring  him.  It's  all  scattered  about  the  floor  of 
the  next  room  in  loose  sheets." 

I  read  The  Loyalist  while  I  waited.  The  editor 
was  unquestionably  a  first-rate  journalist.  His  Eng- 
lish was  of  a  naked,  muscular  kind,  which  reminded  me 
of  Swift  and  occasionally  of  John  Mitchel.  But  I 
could  not  agree  with  McNeice  that  he  had  changed  his 
tune.  He  still  seemed  to  be  editing  a  rebel  paper  and 
still  advocated  the  use  of  physical  force  for  resisting 
the  will  of  the  King,  Lords  and  Commons  of  our  con- 


94  THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER 

stitution.  It  is  the  merest  commonplace  to  say  that 
Ireland  is  a  country  of  unblushing  self-contradictions; 
but  I  do  not  think  that  the  truth  of  this  ever  came  home 
to  me  quite  so  forcibly  as  when  I  read  The  Loyalist  that 
it  would  be  better,  if  necessary,  to  imitate  the  Boers 
and  shoot  down  regiments  of  British  soldiers  than  to 
be  false  to  the  Empire  of  which  "  it  is  our  proudest 
boast  that  we  are  citizens."  The  editor  —  such  was  the 
conclusion  I  arrived  at  —  must  be  a  humorist  of  a 
high  order. 

His  name  was  Diarmid  O'Donovan  and  he  always 
wrote  it  in  Irish  characters,  which  used  to  puzzle  me 
at  first  when  I  got  into  correspondence  with  him.  We 
found  him  in  a  small  room  at  the  top  of  a  house  in  a 
side  street  of  a  singularly  depressing  kind. 

McNeice  explained  to  me  that  The  Loyalist  did  not 
court  notoriety,  and  preferred  to  have  an  office  which 
was,  as  far  as  possible,  out  of  sight.  He  said  that 
O'Donovan  was  particularly  anxious  to  be  unobtrusive. 
He  had,  before  he  became  connected  with  The  Loyalist, 
been  editor  of  two  papers  which  had  been  suppressed 
by  the  Government  for  advocating  what  the  Litany  calls 
"  sedition  and  privy  conspiracy."  He  held,  very 
naturally,  that  a  paper  would  get  on  better  in  the  world 
if  it  had  no  office  at  all.  If  that  was  impossible,  the 
office  should  be  an  attic  in  an  inaccessible  slum. 

O'Donovan,  when  we  entered,  was  seated  at  a  table 
writing  vigorously.  I  do  not  know  how  he  managed 
to  write  at  all.  His  table  was  covered  with  stacks  of 
newspapers,  very  dusty.  He  had  cleared  a  small,  a 
very  small  space  in  the  middle  of  them,  and  his  ink- 
bottle  occupied  a  kind  of  cave  hollowed  out  at  the  base 
of  one  of  the  stacks.  It  must  have  been  extremely 


THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER  95 

difficult  to  put  a  pen  into  it.  The  chairs  —  there  were 
only  two  of  them  besides  the  editorial  stool  —  were 
also  covered  with  papers.  But  even  if  they  had  been 
free  I  should  not  have  cared  to  sit  down  on  them. 
They  were  exceedingly  dirty  and  did  not  look  safe. 

McNeice  introduced  me  and  then  produced  his  own 
article.  O'Donovan,  very  politely,  offered  me  his  stool. 

"  McNeice  tells  me,"  he  said,  "  that  you  are  writing 
a  history  of  Irish  Rebellions.  I  suppose  you  have  said 
that  Nationalism  ceased  to  exist  about  the  year  1900?  " 

"  I  hadn't  thought  of  saying  that,"  I  said.  "  In  fact 
—  in  view  of  the  Home  Rule  Bill,  you  know  —  I  should 
have  said  that  Irish  Nationalism  was  just  beginning  to 
come  to  its  own." 

O'Donovan  snorted. 

"  There's  no  such  thing  as  Irish  Nationalism  left," 
he  said.  "  The  country  is  hypnotized.  We've  ac- 
cepted a  Bill  which  deprives  us  of  the  most  elementary 
rights  of  freemen.  We've  licked  the  boots  of  English 
Liberals.  We've  said  '  thank  you '  for  any  gnawed 
bones  they  like  to  fling  to  us.  We've  — " 

It  struck  me  that  O'Donovan  was  becoming  rhetor- 
ical. I  interrupted  him. 

"  Idealism  in  politics,"  I  said,  "  is  one  of  the  most 
futile  things  there  is.  What  the  Nationalist  Party — " 

"Don't  call  them  that,"  said  O'Donovan.  "I  tell 
you  they're  not  Nationalists." 

"  I'll  call  them  anything  you  like,"  I  said,  "  but  until 
you  invent  some  other  name  for  them  I  can't  well  talk 
about  them  without  calling  them  Nationalists." 

"  They  — "  said  O'Donovan. 

"  Very  well,"  I  said.  "  They.  So  long  as  you  know 
who  I  mean,  the  pronoun  will  satisfy  me.  They  had  to 


96  THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER 

consider  not  what  men  like  you  wanted,  but  what  the 
Liberal  Party  could  be  induced  to  give.  I  don't  say 
they  made  the  best  bargain  possible,  but  — 

"  Anyhow,"  said  McNeice,  "  we're  not  going  to  be 
governed  by  those  fellows.  That's  the  essential 
point." 

I  think  it  is.  The  Unionist  is  not  really  passionately 
attached  to  the  Union.  He  has  no  insuperable  antipa- 
thy to  Home  Rule.  Indeed,  I  think  most  Unionists 
would  welcome  any  change  in  our  existing  system  of 
government  if  it  were  not  that  they  have  the  most 
profound  and  deeply  rooted  objection  to  the  men  whom 
McNeice  describes  as  "  those  fellows,"  and  O'Donovan 
indicates  briefly  as  "  they." 

"  And  so,"  I  said,  turning  to  O'Donovan,  "  in  mere 
despair  of  nationality  you  have  gone  over  to  the  side 
of  the  Unionists." 

"  I've  gone  over,"  said  O'Donovan,  "  to  the  side  of 
the  only  people  in  Ireland  who  mean  to  fight." 

Supposing  that  Ulster  really  did  mean  to  fight 
O'Donovan's  position  was  quite  reasonable.  But  Bab- 
berly  says  it  will  never  come  to  fighting.  He  is  quite 
confident  of  his  ability  to  bluff  the  conscientious  Liberal 
into  dropping  the  Home  Rule  Bill  for  fear  of  civil 
war.  O'Donovan,  and  possibly  McNeice,  will  be  left 
out  in  the  cold  if  Babberly  is  right.  The  matter  is 
rather  a  tangled  one.  With  Babberly  is  Lady  Moyne, 
working  at  her  ingenious  policy  of  dragging  a  red  her- 
ring across  the  path  along  which  democracy  goes  to- 
wards socialism.  On  the  other  hand  there  is  McNeice 
with  fiery  intelligence,  and  O'Donovan,  a  coldly  con- 
sistent rebel  against  English  rule  in  any  shape  and 
form.  They  have  their  little  paper  with  money  enough 


THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER  97 

behind  it,  with  people  like  Crossan  circulating  it  for 
them.  It  is  quite  possible  that  they  may  count  for 
something.  Then  there  is  Malcolmson,  a  man  of  al- 
most incredible  stupidity,  but  with  a  knowledge,  ham- 
mered into  him  no  doubt  with  extra  difficulty,  of  how 
to  handle  guns. 

O'Donovan  and  McNeice  were  bending  over  some 
proof  sheets  and  talking  in  low  whispers;  there  was  a 
knock  at  the  office  door,  and  a  moment  later  Malcolm- 
son  entered.  He  looked  bristlier  than  ever,  and  was 
plainly  in  a  state  of  joyous  excitement.  He  held  a 
copy  of  the  first  number  of  The  Loyalist  in  his  hand. 
He  caught  sight  of  me  at  once. 

"  I'm  damned,"  he  said,  "  if  I  expected  to  see  you 
here,  Kilmore.  You're  the  last  man  in  Ireland — " 

"  I'm  only  here  by  accident,"  I  said,  "  and  I'm  going 
away  almost  at  once.  Let  me  introduce  you  to  Mr. 
McNeice  and  Mr.  O'Donovan." 

Malcolmson  shook  hands  with  the  two  men  vigor- 
ously. I  never  shake  hands  with  Malcolmson  if  I  can 
possibly  help  it,  because  he  always  hurts  me.  I  expect 
he  hurt  both  McNeice  and  O'Donovan.  They  did  not 
cry  out,  but  they  looked  a  good  deal  surprised. 

"  I  happened  to  be  in  Dublin,"  said  Malcolmson, 
"  and  I  called  round  here  to  congratulate  the  editor  of 
this  paper.  I  only  came  across  it  the  day  before  yes- 
terday, and  — " 

"  You  couldn't  have  come  across  it  any  sooner,"  I 
said,  "  for  it's  only  just  published." 

"  And  to  put  down  my  name  as  a  subscriber  for 
twenty  copies.  If  you  want  money  — " 

"  They  don't,"  I  said,  "  Conroy  is  financing  them." 

"  Conroy  has  some  sound  ideas,"  said  Malcolmson. 


98  THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER 

"  You  approve  of  the  paper,  then  ?  "  said  McNeice. 

"  I  like  straight  talk,"  said  Malcolmson. 

"  We  aim  at  that,"  said  O'Donovan. 

"  I'm  dead  sick  of  politics  and  speech  making,"  said 
Malcolmson.  "  What  I  want  is  to  have  a  slap  at  the 
damned  rebels." 

"  Mr.  O'Donovan's  point  of  view,"  I  said,  "  is  almost 
the  same  as  yours.  What  he  wants  — " 

"  I'm  glad  to  hear  it,"  said  Malcolmson,  "  and  I  need 
only  say  that  when  the  time  comes,  gentlemen,  and  it 
won't  be  long  now  if  things  go  on  as  they  are  going  — 
you'll  find  me  ready.  What  Ireland  wants  — " 

Malcolmson  paused.  I  waited  expectantly.  It  is 
always  interesting  to  hear  what  Ireland  wants.  Many 
people  have  theories  on  the  subject,  and  hardly  any  one 
agrees  with  any  one  else. 

"  What  Ireland  wants,"  said  Malcolmson  dramatic- 
ally, "  is  another  Oliver  Cromwell." 

He  drew  himself  up  and  puffed  out  his  chest  as  he 
spoke.  He  must,  I  think,  have  rather  fancied  himself 
in  the  part  of  a  twentieth  century  Puritan  horse  soldier. 
I  looked  round  at  O'Donovan  to  see  how  he  was  taking 
the  suggestion.  Oliver  Cromwell  I  supposed,  could 
not  possibly  be  one  of  his  favourite  heroes.  But  I  had 
misjudged  O'Donovan.  His  sympathy  with  rebels  of 
all  nations  was  evidently  stronger  than  his  dislike  of 
the  typical  Englishman.  After  all,  Cromwell,  however 
objectionable  his  religious  views  may  have  been,  did 
kill  a  king.  O'Donovan  smiled  quite  pleasantly  at 
Malcolmson.  I  dare  say  that  even  the  idea  of  a  new 
massacre  of  Drogheda  was  agreeable  enough  to  him, 
provided  the  inhabitants  of  the  town  were  the  people 
to  whom  he  denied  the  title  of  Nationalists  and  Mai- 


THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER  99 

colmson  wanted  to  have  a  slap  at  because  they  were 
rebels. 

Then  McNeice  got  us  all  back  to  practical  business 
in  a  way  that  would  have  delighted  Cahoon.  McNeice, 
though  he  does  live  in  Dublin,  has  good  Belfast  blood 
in  his  veins.  He  likes  his  heroics  to  be  put  on  a  busi- 
ness basis.  The  immediate  and  most  pressing  prob- 
lem, he  reminded  us,  was  to  secure  as  large  a  circula- 
tion as  possible  for  The  Loyalist. 

"  You  get  the  paper  into  the  people's  hands,"  he  said 
to  Malcolmson,  "  and  we'll  get  the  ideas  into  their 
heads." 

Malcolmson,  who  is  certainly  prepared  to  make  sac- 
rifices in  a  good  cause,  offered  to  hire  a  man  with  a 
motorcycle  to  distribute  the  paper  from  house  to  house 
over  a  wide  district. 

"  I  know  the  exact  man  we  want,"  he  said.  "  He 
knows  every  house  in  County  Antrim,  and  the  people 
like  him.  He's  been  distributing  Bibles  and  selling  il- 
luminated texts  among  the  farmers  and  labourers  for 
years.  He's  what's  called  a  colporteur.  That,"  he 
turned  to  O'Donovan  with  his  explanation,  "  is  a  kind 
of  Scripture  reader,  you  know." 

If  any  one  in  the  world  except  Malcolmson  had  sug- 
gested the  employment  of  a  Scripture  reader  for  the 
distribution  of  The  Loyalist,  I  should  have  applauded 
a  remarkable  piece  of  cynicism.  But  Malcolmson  was 
in  simple  earnest. 

"  Will  you  be  able  to  get  him?  "  I  said.  "  The  so- 
ciety which  employs  him  may  perhaps — " 

"  Oh,  that  will  be  all  right,"  said  Malcolmson. 
"  There  can't  be  any  objection.  But  if  there  is  —  I 
happen  to  be  a  member  of  the  committee  of  the  society. 


ioo          THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER 

I'm    one"-— he    sunk    his    voice    modestly — "of    the 
largest  subscribers." 

I  am  inclined  to  forget  sometimes  that  Malcolmson 
takes  a  leading  part  in  Church  affairs.  At  the  last 
meeting  of  the  General  Synod  of  the  Church  of  Ire- 
land he  said  that  the  distribution  of  the  Bible  among 
the  people  of  Ireland  was  the  surest  means  of  quench- 
ing the  desire  for  Home  Rule.  Free  copies  of  The 
Loyalist  for  the  people  who  already  have  Bibles  and 
a  force  of  artillery  are,  so  to  speak,  his  reserves. 


CHAPTER  XI 

THE  1 2th  of  July,  was,  of  course,  indicated  by  na- 
ture itself  as  a  day  in  every  way  suitable  for  a 
great  Unionist  demonstration.  Babberly  and  Lady 
Moyne  were  not  the  people  to  neglect  an  opportunity. 
They  organized  a  demonstration.  Then  somebody  — 
I  think  it  must  have  been  McNeice  in  the  pages  of  The 
Loyalist  —  suggested  that  the  thing  should  be  called 
a  review  and  not  a  demonstration.  Malcolmson  took 
the  idea  up  warmly  and  forced  Babberly's  hand.  Eng- 
lish journalists  of  the  Conservative  kind  —  journalists 
of  every  kind  swarmed  over  Belfast  for  a  week  before- 
hand —  were  delighted  and  trumpetted  the  thing  as  a 
review.  Liberal  journalists  lost  their  tempers  —  the 
clever  ones  losing  theirs  most  hopelessly  —  and  abused 
the  Orangemen  in  finely  pointed  paradoxical  epigrams, 
which  I  dare  say  excited  the  admiration  of  sentimental 
Nationalists  in  Chelsea,  but  had  not  the  smallest  effect 
of  any  kind  on  the  people  of  Belfast.  They,  just  then, 
had  no  leisure  time  to  spend  in  reading  epigrams,  and 
never  at  any  time  appreciated  paradox.  An  English 
statesman  of  great  ability  announced  to  the  world  at 
large  that  a  demonstration  was  one  thing,  and  a  review 
was  quite  a  different  thing.  He  went  no  further  than 
to  point  out  the  fact  that  there  was  a  distinction  be- 
tween the  two  things;  but  everybody  understood  that 
a  demonstration  was,  in  his  opinion,  quite  harmless, 

101 


102  THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER 

whereas  a  review  might  end  in  getting  somebody  into 
trouble. 

The  Nationalist  leaders  — "  those  fellows  "  as  Mc- 
Neice  called  them  —  issued  a  kind  of  manifesto.  It 
was  a  document  which  breathed  the  spirit  of  moderate 
constitutionalism,  and  spoke  the  words  of  grave,  seri- 
ous patriotism.  It  made  a  strong  appeal  to  the  people 
of  Belfast  not  to  injure  the  cause  of  liberty,  law  and 
order  by  rash  and  ill-considered  action.  It  said  that 
no  Nationalist  wanted  to  see  Babberly  and  Lord  Moyne 
put  into  prison;  but  that  most  Nationalists  had  been 
made  to  sleep  on  plank  beds  for  utterances  much  less 
seditious  than  this  advertisement  of  a  review.  O'Don- 
ovan  and  McNeice  tore  this  manifesto  to  pieces  with 
jubilant  scorn  in  the  next  number  of  The  Loyalist. 

A  Roman  Catholic  bishop  issued  a  kind  of  pastoral 
to  his  flock  urging  them  to  remain  at  home  on  the  I2th 
of  July,  and  above  all  things  not  to  attempt  a  counter 
demonstration  in  Belfast.  It  was  a  nice  pastoral,  very 
Christian  in  tone,  but  quite  unnecessary.  No  sane  Ro- 
man Catholic,  unless  he  wanted  a  martyr's  crown, 
would  have  dreamed  of  demonstrating  anywhere  north 
of  the  Boyne  on  that  particular  day. 

The  newspapers  were  very  interesting  at  this  time, 
and  I  took  in  so  many  of  them  that  I  had  not  time  to 
do  anything  except  read  them.  I  had  not  even  time 
to  read  them  all,  but  Marion  used  to  go  through  the 
ones  I  could  not  read.  With  a  view  to  writing  an 
essay  —  to  be  published  in  calmer  times  —  on  "  Dif- 
ferent Points  of  View  "  we  cut  out  and  pasted  into  a 
book  some  of  the  finer  phrases.  We  put  them  in  par- 
allel columns.  "  Truculent  corner  boys,"  for  instance, 
faced  "  Grim,  silent  warriors."  "  Men  in  whom  the 


THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER  103 

spirit  of  the  martial  psalms  still  survives,"  stood  over 
against  "  Ruffians  whose  sole  idea  of  religion  is  to 
curse  the  Pope."  "  Sons  of  unconquerable  colonists, 
men  of  our  own  race  and  blood,"  was  balanced  by 
"  hooligans  with  a  taste  for  rioting  so  long  as  rioting 
can  be  indulged  in  with  no  danger  to  their  own  skins." 
We  were  interrupted  in  this  pleasant  work  by  the  ar- 
rival of  a  letter  from  Lady  Moyne.  She  summoned 
me  —  invited  would  be  quite  the  wrong  word  —  to 
Castle  Affey.  I  went,  of  course. 

Babberly  was  there.  He  and  Lady  Moyne  were 
shut  up  in  the  library  along  with  Lady  Moyne's  ex- 
hausted secretary.  They  were  writing  letters  which 
she  typed.  I  saw  Moyne  himself  before  I  saw  them. 

"  I'm  afraid,"  he  said,  "  I'm  very  much  afraid  that 
some  of  our  people  are  inclined  to  go  too  far.  Mal- 
colmson,  for  instance.  I  can't  understand  Malcolmson. 
After  all  the  man's  a  gentleman." 

"But,"  I  said,  "Malcolmson  wants  to  fight.  He 
always  said  so." 

"  Quite  so,  quite  so.  We  all  said  so.  I've  said  so 
myself;  but  it  was  always  on  the  distinct  understand- 
ing-" 

"  That  it  would  never  come  to  that.  I've  heard  Bab- 
berly say  so." 

"  But  —  damn  it  all,  Kilmore !  —  it  doesn't  do  to 
push  things  to  these  extremes.  The  whole  business 
has  been  mismanaged.  The  people  have  got  out  of 
hand;  and  there's  Malcolmson,  a  man  who's  dined  at 
my  table  a  score  of  times,  actually  egging  them  on. 
Now,  what  do  you  think  we  ought  to  do  ?  " 

"  The  Government  is  threatening  you,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"  It's   growling,"   said   Moyne.    "  Not  that   I   care 


104  THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER 

what  the  Government  does  to  me.  It  can't  do  much. 
But  I  do  not  want  her  ladyship  mixed  up  in  anything 
unpleasant.  It  won't  do,  you  know.  People  don't  like 
it.  I  don't  mind  for  myself,  of  course.  But  still  it's 
very  unpleasant.  Men  I  know  keep  writing  to  me. 
You  know  the  sort  of  thing  I  mean." 

I  did.  The  members  of  the  English  aristocracy  still 
preserve  a  curious  sentiment  which  they  call  "  loyalty." 
It  is  quite  a  different  thing  from  the  "  loyalty "  of 
Crossan,  for  instance,  or  McNeice.  I  fully  understood 
that  there  were  men  in  clubs  in  London  who  would 
look  coldly  at  poor  Moyne  (men  of  such  importance 
that  their  wives'  treatment  of  Lady  Moyne  would  mat- 
ter even  to  her)  if  he  were  discovered  to  be  heading 
an  actual  rising  of  Ulster  Protestants.  I  promised  to 
do  what  I  could  to  get  Moyne  out  of  his  difficulty. 

I  found  that  Babberly  and  Lady  Moyne  had  worked 
out  a  very  feasible  plan  without  any  help  from  me. 

"  That  fellow  Malcolmson  has  rushed  things,"  said 
Babberly,  "  and  there's  an  abominable  rag  called  The 
Loyalist  — " 

"  By  the  way,"  I  said,  "  I  hear  that  the  Nationalists 
at  their  last  meeting  in  Dublin  joined  in  singing  '  God 
Save  the  King.' " 

I  wanted  to  "hear  what  Babberly  thought  of  this.  I 
was  disappointed.  The  fact  did  not  seem  to  interest 
him. 

."  I  don't  know  who  edits  the  thing,"  he  went  on,  still 
referring  to  The  Loyalist. 

"  Conroy  is  behind  it,"  I  said.  "  I  happen  to  know 
that." 

"  But  surely,"  said  Lady  Moyne,  "  Mr.  Conroy  can- 
not want  to  encourage  violence.  He  has  just  as  much 


THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER  105 

to  lose  as  any  of  us  —  more  than  most  of  us  —  by  any 
kind  of  outbreak  of  the  democracy." 

"  Lady  Moyne  has  suggested  to  Malcolmson,"  said 
Babberly,  "  that  he  should  agree  to  call  this  I2th  of 
July  business  a  March  Past." 

"  Is  that  any  improvement  on  Review  ?  "  I  asked. 

"Of  course,"  said  Lady  Moyne,  "  the  Government 
doesn't  want  to  be  driven  to  take  steps  against  us. 
There  would  be  horrible  rioting  afterwards  if  they 
struck  Moyne's  name  off  the  Privy  Council  or  did  any- 
thing like  that.  It  would  be  just  as  unpleasant  for 
them  as  it  would  be  for  us,  more  so  in  fact." 

"  Your  idea,"  I  said,  "  is  to  give  the  Government  a 
loophole  of  escape." 

"  Malcolmson  has  agreed  all  right,"  said  Babberly, 
"  and  if  only  that  wretched  little  paper  —  did  you  say 
Conroy  was  in  it  ?  " 

"  I'll  write  to  Mr.  Conroy  at  once,"  said  Lady  Moyne. 
"  I'm  sure  his  connection  with  a  paper  of  that  kind  is 
simply  a  mistake." 

She  turned  to  the  table  and  began  to  write  her  letter. 
The  secretary  in  a  distant  corner  of  the  room  was  still 
typing  out  a  long  pronouncement  which  Babberly  in- 
tended to  forward  to  The  Times.  A  minute  or  two 
later  Lady  Moyne  turned  to  me  with  one  of  her  bright- 
est smiles. 

"  We  want  you  to  be  with  us  on  the  I2th,"  she  said. 

In  England  or  Scotland  a  countess  who  gives  an 
invitation  for  "  the  I2th  "  is  understood  to  mean  the 
1 2th  of  August,  and  her  guest  must  be  ready  to  shoot 
grouse.  In  North-Eastern  Ulster  "  the  I2th "  meant 
the  1 2th  of  July,  and  the  party,  in  this  case  at  all 
events,  was  likely  to  end  in  the  shooting  of  policemen. 


106  THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER 

"  At  the  Review  ?  "  I  said,  "  I  mean  to  say  the  March 
Past?  But  I  never  go  to  political  meetings.  I'm  no 
good  at  all  as  a  speaker." 

"  Oh,  it  doesn't  matter  about  your  speaking.  We 
should  love  to  hear  you,  of  course.  But  if  you'd  really 
rather  not  — !  " 

I  think  Lady  Moyne  was  relieved  when  I  assured 
her  that  I  really  would  rather  not. 

"But  you'll  be  on  the  platform,"  she  said.  "We 
want  you  very  much  indeed." 

"  I  don't  see,"  I  said,  "  that  I'll  be  the  least  use  to 
you." 

"  The  point  is,"  said  Babberly,  "  that  you're  a  Lib- 
eral." 

"  Oh,  you  mustn't  say  that,"  said  Lady  Moyne. 
"  That's  only  foolish  gossip.  I'm  perfectly  certain 
that  Lord  Kilmore  never  was — " 

"  Never,"  I  said.  "  But  then  I  never  was  a  Con- 
servative either." 

"That's  just  it,"  said  Lady  Moyne.  "Don't  you 
see?" 

"  The  point  is,"  said  Babberly,  "  that  if  you  are  on 
the  platform  it  will  be  quite  clear  —  I  mean  to  say  as 
it's  generally  understood  that  you're  inclined  to  Liber- 
alism — " 

I  began  to  understand  a  little.  Last  time  I  was  at 
Castle  Affey  Lady  Moyne  made  a  great  point  of  my 
associating  myself  with  her  party  in  opposing  Home 
Rule.  The  fact  that  I  was  a  Liberal  (though  not  in 
any  offensive  sense  of  the  word)  gave  weight  to  the 
opposition;  and  I  might  help  to  make  the  other  Lib- 
erals (who  were  Liberals  in  the  most  offensive  possible 
sense)  take  the  threats  of  Babberly  seriously.  This 


THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER  107 

time  I  was  to  sit  on  the  platform  side  by  side  with 
Malcolmson  and  Cahoon,  because,  being  a  Liberal,  or 
rather  suspected  of  being  inclined  to  Liberalism,  my 
presence  might  induce  the  other  Liberals,  who  were 
Liberals  indeed,  not  to  take  Babberly's  remarks  at  their 
face  value.  That  is  the  drawback  to  the  kind  of  de- 
tached position  which  I  occupy.  I  am  liable  to  be  used 
for  such  various  purposes  that  I  get  confused.  How- 
ever, I  ought,  no  doubt,  to  be  very  thankful  that  I  am 
useful  in  any  way. 

"If  you  think,  my  dear  Lady  Moyne,"  I  said,  "  that 
my  presence  at  the  March  Past  will  be  of  the  slightest 
service  to  you  — " 

"  It  will,"  she  said.  "  It  will,  indeed,  of  the  very 
greatest  service,  and  Moyne  will  be  delighted." 

I  was  thinking  of  Moyne  when  I  made  the  promise. 
I  do  not  mean  to  say  that  I  should  have  undertaken  to 
perch  myself  like  a  fool  on  a  wooden  platform  in  the 
middle  of  a  mob  simply  out  of  friendship  for  Moyne. 
I  would  not  have  done  it  unless  Lady  Moyne  had 
looked  at  me  with  a  particular  expression  in  her  eyes, 
unless  I  had  hoped  that  she  would  give  my  hand  a 
little  squeeze  of  intimate  friendship  when  I  was  bidding 
her  good  night.  Still  I  did  think  of  Moyne  too,  and 
was  quite  genuinely  pleased  that  I  was  able  to  help 
him  out  of  a  difficult  position. 

I  found  him  later  on  roaming  about  among  the  cu- 
cumber frames  in  a  desolate  corner  of  the  garden.  A 
man  who  was  digging  potatoes  directed  me  to  that  curi- 
ous retreat. 

"It's  all  right,  Moyne,"  I  said.  "We've  got  the 
whole  thing  settled  most  satisfactorily.  You  needn't 
be  afraid  of  any  disagreeable  public  scandal." 


io8  THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER 

"  Thank  God !  "  said  Moyne,  fervently.  "  How  did 
you  manage  it  ?  " 

"  I  can't  take  any  credit  for  the  arrangement,"  I  said. 
"  Lady  Moyne  and  Babberly  had  it  all  cut  and  dried 
before  they  consulted  me  at  all." 

"  What  are  they  going  to  do  ?  " 

"  Well,  in  the  first  place  they've  got  Malcolmson  and 
the  rest  of  that  lot  to  stop  calling  the  thing  a  Review. 
It's  to  be  officially  known  for  the  future  as  a  March 
Past." 

"  Who  is  to  march  past  what  ?  "  said  Moyne. 

"  I  forgot  to  ask  that,"  I  said,  "  but  I  rather  fancy 
the  audience  is  to  march  past  you." 

"  I  don't  see,"  said  Moyne,  "  that  there's  much  dif- 
ference between  calling  it  a  March  Past  and  calling  it 
a  Review.  They're  both  military  terms;  and  what  I 
object  to  is  being  associated  with  — 

"  Lady  Moyne  seemed  to  think,"  I  said,  "  that  it  made 
all  the  difference  in  the  world;  and  that  the  Govern- 
ment would  grasp  at  the  olive  branch." 

"  I  suppose  it  will  be  all  right,"  said  Moyne  doubt- 
fully. 

"  The  next  part  of  the  plan,"  I  said,  "  is  that  I  am  to 
be  on  the  platform." 

"  You'll  rather  hate  that,  won't  you,  Kilmore  ?  " 

"  I  shall  detest  it." 

"  And  I  don't  see  what  good  it  will  do." 

"  Nor  do  I ;  but  Lady  Moyne  and  Babberly  both  say 
that  as  I'm  a  Liberal — " 

"  Surely  to  God  you're  not  that ! "  said  Moyne. 

"  No,  I'm  not.  But  I'm  suspected  of  being  inclined 
that  way.  Therefore  my  being  on  the  platform  will 


THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER  109 

prove  to  the  world  that  you're  not  nearly  so  much 
of  a  Unionist  as  you've  been  trying  to  make  out." 

"  But  I  am,"  said  Moyne. 

"  I  know  that,  of  course ;  but  Lady  Moyne  wants  to 
persuade  people  that  you're  not,  just  for  the  present, 
till  this  fuss  about  the  Review  wears  off." 

"  I  suppose  it  will  be  all  right,"  said  Moyne,  again. 

It  was  all  right.  An  announcement  was  made  in  all 
the  leading  papers  that  no  one  had  ever  intended  to 
hold  a  Review  on  the  I2th  of  July,  but  that  the  Unionist 
leaders  had  expressed  their  unalterable  determination 
to  have  a  March  Past.  The  Liberal  papers  said  that 
this  abandonment  of  the  principal  item  on  their  pro- 
gramme showed  more  distinctly  than  ever  that  the  Ul- 
ster Unionists  were  merely  swaggering  cowards  who 
retreated  before  the  firm  front  showed  by  the  Govern- 
ment in  face  of  their  arrogant  claims.  The  Unionist  pa- 
pers said  that  Belfast  by  insisting  on  the  essential  thing 
while  displaying  a  magnanimous  disregard  for  the  ac- 
cidental nomenclature,  had  demonstrated  once  and  for 
ever  the  impossibility  of  passing  the  Home  Rule  Bill. 

A  few  days  later  my  name  appeared  amongst  those 
of  other  gentlemen  who  intended  to  take  seats  on  the 
platform  in  Belfast.  The  Unionist  papers  welcomed 
the  entry  into  public  life  of  a  peer  of  my  well-known 
intellectual  powers  and  widely  recognized  moderation. 
The  Liberal  papers  said  that  the  emptiness  of  Ulster's 
opposition  to  Home  Rule  might  be  gauged  by  the  fact 
that  it  had  welcomed  the  support  of  a  dilettante  lord- 
ling. 


CHAPTER  XII 

OUR  meeting  on  the  I2th  of  July  was  held  in  the 
Botanic  Gardens,  and  nobody  marched  past  any- 
thing. A  platform,  not  unlike  the  Grand  Stand  at  a 
country  race  meeting,  was  built  on  the  top  of  a  long 
slope  of  grass.  At  the  bottom  of  the  slope  was  a  level 
space,  devoted  at  ordinary  times  to  tennis-courts.  Be- 
yond that  the  ground  sloped  up  again.  The  botanists 
who  owned  the  gardens  must,  I  imagine,  have  regretted 
that  our  meeting  was  a  splendid  success.  I  did  not 
see  their  grounds  afterwards,  but  there  cannot  possibly 
have  been  much  grass  left.  The  poor  tennis-players 
must  have  been  cut  off  from  their  game  for  the  rest 
of  the  summer.  The  space  in  front  of  the  platform 
was  packed  with  men,  and  the  air  was  heavy  with  the 
peculiarly  pungent  smell  of  orange  peel.  I  cannot  im- 
agine how  any  one  in  the  crowd  managed  to  peel  an 
orange.  The  men  seemed  to  be  so  tightly  packed  as  to 
make  the  smallest  movement  impossible.  Possibly  the 
oranges  were  deliberately  peeled  beforehand  by  the  or- 
ganizers of  the  meeting  with  a  view  to  creating  the 
proper  atmosphere  for  the  meeting.  There  certainly 
is  a  connection  between  the  smell  of  oranges  and  po- 
litical enthusiasm.  I  felt  a  wave  of  strong  feeling  come 
over  me  the  moment  I  climbed  to  my  seat;  and  as  no 
one  had  at  that  time  made  a  speech,  it  can  only  have 
been  the  oranges  which  affected  me.  I  wish  some  phi- 
losopher would  work  out  a  theory  of  oranges.  The 

no 


THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER  in 

blossom  of  the  tree  is  used  at  weddings  as  a  symbol 
of  enduring  love,  perhaps  as  an  aid  to  affection.  The 
mature  fruit  pervades  political  meetings,  which  are  all 
called  together  with  a  view  to  promoting  strife  and 
general  ill  feeling.  What  would  happen  if  any  one  came 
to  a  meeting  crowned  with  the  blossoms  ?  What  would 
become  of  a  bride  if  she  were  decked  with  the  fruit? 
Is  there  any  connection  whatever  between  the  fruit  and 
the  lily?  It  is  certainly  associated  with  political  action 
of  the  most  violent  kind. 

Poor  Moyne,  who  took  the  chair,  wore  one  of  the 
lilies,  a  very  small  one,  in  the  lappel  of  his  coat.  Lady 
Moyne  carried  a  large  bouquet  of  them.  Babberly 
wore  one.  So  did  Malcolmson.  Our  Dean  would  have 
worn  one  if  he  could;  but  it  is  impossible  to  fix  a 
flower  becomingly  into  the  button-hole  of  a  clerical 
coat.  We  began  by  singing  a  hymn.  The  Dean  de- 
claimed the  first  two  lines  of  it,  and  then  the  bands 
took  up  the  tune.  Considering  that  there  must  have 
been  at  least  forty  bands  present,  all  playing,  I  think 
we  got  through  the  hymn  remarkably  well.  We  cer- 
tainly made  an  impressive  amount  of  noise.  I  think 
it  was  Babberly  who  suggested  the  hymn.  He  had 
an  idea  that  it  would  impress  the  English  Noncon- 
formists. I  do  not  think  it  did;  but,  so  far  as  our 
meeting  was  concerned,  that  did  not  matter.  We  were 
not  singing  it  —  any  of  us,  except  Babberly  —  with 
a  view  to  impressing  other  people.  We  were  singing 
with  the  feeling  in  our  breasts,  that  we  were  actually 
marching  to  battle  under  the  divine  protection.  The 
reporters  of  the  Unionist  papers  made  the  most  of 
the  prevailing  emotion.  They  sent  off  telegrams  of  the 
most  flamboyant  kind  about  our  Puritan  forefathers. 


Ii2          THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER 

Poor  Moyne,  who  is  a  deeply  religious  man,  did  not 
sing  the  hymn.  He  has  a  theory  that  hymns  and  poli- 
tics ought  not  to  be  mixed.  I  heard  him  arguing  the 
position  afterwards  with  the  Dean  who  maintained  that 
the  question  of  Home  Rule  was  not  a  political  one. 
Political  questions  are  those,  so  he  argued,  with  regard 
to  which  there  is  a  possibility  of  difference  of  opinion 
among  honest  men.  But  all  honest  men  are  opposed 
to  Home  Rule,  which  is  therefore  not  a  political  ques- 
tion. 

My  seat  was  in  the  very  front  of  the  platform,  and 
when  we  had  finished  the  hymn  I  noticed  that  the  smell 
of  perspiration  was  beginning  to  overpower  the  or- 
anges. It  is  my  misfortune  to  have  an  unusually  acute 
sense  of  smell.  No  one  afflicted  with  such  an  infirmity 
ought  to  take  any  part  in  the  politics  of  a  modern  demo- 
cratic state. 

Moyne  introduced  Babberly  to  the  audience,  and 
everybody  cheered,  although  no  one  heard  a  word  he 
said.  Moyne  has  not  a  good  voice  at  any  time,  and  his 
objection  to  the  hymn  had  made  him  nervous. 

Babberly  was  not  nervous,  and  he  has  a  very  good 
voice.  I  imagine  that  at  least  half  the  audience  heard 
what  he  said,  and  the  other  half  knew  he  was  saying 
the  right  things  because  the  first  half  cheered  him  at 
frequent  intervals. 

He  began,  of  course,  by  saying  that  our  forefathers 
bled  and  died  for  the  cause  which  we  were  determined 
to  support.  This,  so  far  as  my  forefathers  and 
Moyne's  are  concerned,  is  horribly  untrue.  The  ances- 
tors of  both  of  us  commanded  regiments  of  the  volun- 
teers who  achieved  the  only  Home  Rule  Parliament 
which  ever  sat  in  Ireland.  My  own  great  grandfather 


THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER  113 

afterwards  exchanged  his  right  to  legislate  in  Dublin 
for  the  peerage  which  I  now  enjoy.  But  Moyne  and 
I  were  no  doubt  in  a  minority  in  that  assembly.  Bab- 
berly's  forefathers  may  possibly  have  bled  and  died  for 
the  Union ;  but  I  do  not  think  he  can  be  sure  about  this. 
His  father  lived  in  Leeds,  and  nobody,  not  even  Bab- 
berly  himself,  knows  anything  about  his  grandfather. 

When  the  audience  had  stopped  cheering  Babberly's 
forefathers,  he  went  on  to  tell  us  that  Belfast  had  the 
largest  shipbuilding  yard,  the  largest  tobacco  factory, 
the  largest  linen  mill,  and  the  second  largest  School  of 
Art  Needlework  in  the  United  Kingdom.  These  facts 
were  treated  by  everybody  as  convincing  reasons  for 
the  rejection  of  the  Home  Rule  Bill,  and  a  man,  who 
was  squeezed  very  tight  against  the  platform  just  below 
me,  cursed  the  Pope  several  times  with  singular  vin- 
dictiveness. 

Babberly's  next  statement  was  that  he  defied  the  pres- 
ent Government  to  drive  us  out  of  the  British  Empire, 
which  we  had  taken  a  great  deal  of  trouble  in  times 
past  to  build  up.  This  was,  of  course,  a  perfectly 
safe  defiance  to  utter ;  for  no  one  that  I  ever  heard  of 
had  proposed  to  drive  Babberly,  or  me,  or  Moyne  out 
of  the  Empire. 

Then  we  got  to  the  core  of  Babberly's  speech.  Some 
fool,  it  appeared,  wanted  to  impeach  Babberly,  and 
Babberly  said  that  he  wanted  to  be  impeached.  I  am 
a  little  hazy  about  the  exact  consequences  of  a  suc- 
cessful impeachment.  There  has  not  been  one  for  a 
long  time;  but  I  have  an  idea  that  the  victim  of  the 
process  is  called  before  the  House  of  Lords  and  be- 
headed. How  far  recent  legislation  may  have  curtailed 
the  powers  of  the  House  of  Lords  in  the  matter  I  do 


ii4  THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER 

not  know;  but  even  under  our  new  constitution  im- 
peachment must  remain  a  very  serious  matter.  It  was, 
we  all  felt,  most  heroic  of  Babberly  to  face  this  kind 
of  undefined  doom  in  the  way  he  did. 

This  was  the  last  thing  which  Babberly  said  in  his 
speech.  He  talked  a  great  deal  more,  but  he  did  not 
say  anything  else  which  it  is  possible  to  write  down. 
I  do  not  think  I  have  ever  heard  any  public  speaker 
equal  to  Babberly  in  eloquence.  He  gave  one  incon- 
testable proof  of  his  power  as  an  orator  that  day  in 
Belfast.  He  must  have  spoken  for  very  nearly  an  hour, 
and  yet  no  one  noticed  that  he  was  not  saying  anything 
for  the  greater  part  of  the  time.  I  did  not  notice  it,  and 
probably  should  never  have  found  it  out  if  I  had  not  tried 
afterwards  to  write  down  what  he  said. 

After  Babberly  came  the  Dean.  I  suffer  a  great 
deal  from  the  Dean's  sermons  on  Sundays ;  but  I  thor- 
oughly enjoyed  his  speech.  He  is  not  Babberly's  rival 
in  eloquence;  but  he  has  a  knack  of  saying  the  kind  of 
things  which  people  listen  to.  He  began  by  telling  us 
what  he  would  do  if  he  found  himself  in  command  of 
the  forces  of  Ulster  at  the  beginning  of  a  great  war. 
"  Lord  Moyne,"  he  said,  "  should  organize  my  trans- 
port and  commissariat." 

I  cannot  imagine  any  job  at  which  Moyne  would  be 
more  certain  to  fail  totally.  But  the  Dean  justified 
himself. 

"  I  have  stopped  in  Lord  Moyne's  house,"  he  said, 
"  and  I  know  how  well  he  manages  the  food  supply 
of  a  large  establishment.  My  friend  Mr.  Babberly 
should  draw  up  the  plan  of  campaign.  His  cautious 
intellect  should  devise  the  schemes  for  circumventing 
the  wiles  and  stratagems  of  the  enemy.  He  should 


THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER  115 

map  out  the  ambuscades  into  which  the  opposing  troops 
should  fall.  You  have  listened  to  Mr.  Babberly  to-day. 
You  will  agree  with  me  about  his  fitness  for  the  work 
to  which  I  should  put  him." 

I  had  listened  to  Babberly  and  I  did  not  agree  with 
the  Dean.  But  I  formed  one  of  a  very  small  minority. 
Moyne  began  to  look  uneasy.  It  seemed  to  me  that 
he  did  not  much  like  this  military  metaphor  of  the 
Dean's.  I  imagine  that  he  would  have  been  still  more 
uncomfortable  if  he  had  been  obliged  to  take  an  active 
part  in  a  campaign  planned  by  Babberly. 

"  For  the  command  of  a  forlorn  hope,"  said  the 
Dean,  "  for  the  leading  of  a  desperate  charge,  for  the 
midnight  dash  across  the  frontier — " 

Some  one  in  the  audience  suggested  the  Boyne  as  the 
boundary  of  the  frontier. 

"  I  should  select  Colonel  Malcolmson." 

The  audience  highly  approved  of  his  choice.  It 
seemed  to  me  that  the  people  did  not  quite  grasp  the 
fact  that  the  Dean  was  speaking  only  metaphorically. 
Some  thought  of  the  same  kind  struck  Moyne.  He 
fidgetted  uneasily,  Babberly  made  an  effort  to  stop 
the  Dean,  but  that  was  impossible. 

"  For  settling  the  terms  of  peace  with  the  beaten 
enemy  — " 

"  We'll  beat  them,"  said  several  people  in  the  crowd. 

"  I  should  call  upon  my  good  friend  Lord  Kilmore." 

This  gave  me  a  severe  shock.  For  a  moment  I 
thought  of  standing  up  and  refusing  to  act  as  military 
ambassador  of  the  Ulster  army.  Then  I  recollected 
that  if  Moyne  managed  the  transport  and  Babberly 
planned  the  campaign  it  was  exceedingly  unlikely  that 
there  would  be  any  beaten  enemy.  I  kept  my  seat  and 


n6  THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER 

watched  Babberly  whispering  earnestly  to  Lady  Moyne. 

Malcolmson  followed  the  Dean.  Moyne  leaned  over 
to  me  and  expressed  a  hope  that  Malcolmson  was  not 
going  to  commit  us  to  anything  outrageous.  From  the 
look  of  Malcolmson's  eye  as  he  rose  I  judged  that 
Moyne's  hope  was  a  vain  one. 

"  The  Dean,"  said  Malcolmson,  "  has  spoken  to  you 
about  the  campaign.  I  ask  you,  are  you  prepared  to 
undertake  one?  " 

"  Good  Heavens !  "  said  Moyne. 

Babberly  squeezed  his  way  past  Lady  Moyne. 

"  This  won't  do,"  he  said  to  Moyne,  "  Malcolmson 
mustn't  go  too  far." 

"  The  Dean,"  said  Malcolmson,  "  has  told  us  where 
to  find  our  commanders.  Looking  round  upon  this 
vast  assembly  of  determined  men  I  can  tell  the  Dean 
where  to  look  for  the  rank  and  file  of  the  army." 

"  You'll  have  to  stop  him,"  said  Babberly. 

I  dare  say  the  thought  of  the  impeachment  which  was 
hanging  over  his  head  made  him  nervous. 

"  I  can't,"  said  Lord  Moyne. 

"  I  ask  those  present  here,"  said  Malcolmson,  "  who, 
when  the  supreme  moment  comes  are  prepared  to  step 
forward  into  the  ranks,  to  hold  up  their  hands  and 
swear." 

Malcolmson  did  not  make  it  quite  clear  what  oaths 
we  were  to  employ.  But  his  audience  appeared  to  un- 
derstand him.  Thousands  of  hands  were  held  up  and 
there  was  a  kind  of  loud,  fierce  growl,  which  I  took 
to  be  the  swearing.  Lord  Moyne  turned  to  me. 

"  What  am  I  to  do,  Kilmore  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  I  said. 

Malcolmson  and  the  ten  or  twelve  thousand  men  in 


THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER  117 

front  of  him  were  still  growling  like  a  very  angry 
thunderstorm  at  a  distance.  The  thing  was  exceed- 
ingly impressive.  Then  some  one  started  the  hymn 
again.  I  never  heard  a  hymn  sung  in  such  a  way  be- 
fore. If  the  explosions  of  large  guns  could  be  tuned 
to  the  notes  of  an  octave  the  effect  of  firing  them  off, 
fully  loaded  with  cannon  balls,  would  be  very  much 
the  same.  Malcolmson,  beating  time  very  slowly  with 
his  hand  from  the  front  of  the  platform,  controlled 
this  human  artillery.  Lady  Moyne  came  to  me  and 
shouted  in  my  ear.  It  was  necessary  to  shout  on  ac- 
count of  the  terrific  noise  made  by  Malcolmson's 
hymn. 

"  As  soon  as  he  sits  down  you'll  have  to  get  up  and 
say  something." 

"  I  can't,"  I  yelled.  "  I'm  no  good  at  all  as  a  public 
speaker." 

The  beginning  of  Lady  Moyne's  next  shout  I  could 
not  hear  at  all.  Only  the  last  words  reached  me. 

" — on  account  of  your  being  a  Liberal,  you  know." 

For  the  first  time  since  I  have  known  her  I  refused 
to  do  what  Lady  Moyne  asked  me.  Very  likely  I 
should  have  given  in  at  last  and  made  an  indescribable 
fool  of  myself ;  but  before  she  succeeded  in  persuading 
me,  Malcolmson's  hymn  stopped.  Malcolmson  him- 
self, apparently  satisfied  with  his  performance,  sat 
down. 

"  What  on  earth  am  I  to  do  ?  "  said  Moyne. 

"  You  can  write  to  the  papers,  to-morrow,"  I  said. 

"  But  now  ?  "  said  Moyne,  "  now." 

"  The  only  thing  I  can  think  of,"  I  said,  "  is  to  start 
them  singing  '  God  Save  the  King.'  That  will  commit 
them  more  or  less  —  at  least  it  may." 


n8  THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER 

Moyne  rose  to  his  feet  and  asked  all  the  bands  pres- 
ent to  play  "  God  Save  the  King."  Babberly  backed 
him  and  the  bands  struck  up. 

Considering  that  the  audience  had  just  pledged  them- 
selves with  inarticulate  oaths  and  most  terrifying 
psalmody  to  march  in  Malcolmson's  army,  their  en- 
thusiasm for  the  King  was  striking.  They  sang  the 
National  Anthem  quite  as  whole-heartedly  as  they  had 
sung  the  hymn.  They  are  a  very  curious  people,  these 
fellow-countrymen  of  mine. 

Moyne  cheered  up  a  little  when  we  got  back  to  the 
club. 

"  That  was  a  capital  idea  of  yours,  Kilmore,"  he 
said.  "  I  don't  see  how  they  can  very  well  accuse  us 
of  being  rebels  after  the  way  we  sang  the  National 
Anthem." 

"  I  wonder  if  they'll  impeach  Babberly,"  I  said. 

"  Oh,  that's  only  a  Labour  Member,"  said  Moyne. 
"  He  doesn't  really  mean  it.  Those  fellows  never  do." 

"  Do  you  think  our  people  really  meant  it  to-day  ?  " 
I  said. 

"Meant  what?  God  Save  the  King?  Of  course 
they  did." 

"  I  was  thinking  of  the  hymn,"  I  said. 

"  I  hope  to  God,"  said  Moyne,  "  they  didn't  mean 
that." 

This  is  a  curious  view  of  hymn-singing  for  a  religious 
man  to  take. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

I  CANNOT  make  out  why  everybody  thinks  I  am 
a  Liberal.  Lady  Moyne  was  the  first  who  men- 
tioned to  me  this  slur  on  my  character.  Babberly  evi- 
dently believed  it.  Then,  shortly  after  the  Belfast  meet- 
ing, I  had  a  letter,  marked  "  Private  and  Confidential," 
from  Sir  Samuel  Clithering.  Although  Clithering  is 
not  a  member  of  the  Government,  he  is  in  close  touch 
with  several  very  important  Ministers.  Under  ordi- 
nary circumstances  I  should  not  mention  Clithering's 
name  in  telling  the  story  of  his  letter.  I  know  him  to 
be  a  conscientious,  scrupulously  honourable  man,  and 
I  should  hate  to  give  him  pain.  Under  ordinary  cir- 
cumstances, that  is,  if  things  had  gone  in  Ulster  in  the 
way  things  usually  do  go,  Clithering  would  have  felt 
it  necessary  to  assert  publicly  in  the  papers  that  he 
did  not  write  the  letter.  This  would  have  been  very 
disagreeable  for  him  because  he  does  not  like  telling 
lies;  and  the  unpleasantness  would  certainly  be  ag- 
gravated by  the  fact  that  nobody  would  believe  him. 
So  many  important  and  exciting  things,  however,  have 
happened  in  Ulster  since  I  got  the  letter  that  I  do  not 
think  Clithering  will  now  want  to  deny  that  he  wrote 
it.  I  have,  therefore,  no  hesitation  in  mentioning  his 
name. 

This  letter  was  written  in  the  best  politico-diplomatic 
style.  I  had  to  read  it  nine  times  before  I  could  find 
out  what  it  was  about.  When  I  did  find  out  I  made  a 
translation  of  it  into  the  English  of  ordinary  life,  so  as 

119 


120  THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER 

to  make  quite  sure  of  not  acting  beyond  my  instruc- 
tions. I  was  first  of  all  complimented  on  not  being 
a  party  politician.  This,  coming  from  one  of  the  Gov- 
ernment wire-pullers,  meant,  of  course,  that  I  was  in 
his  opinion  a  strong  Liberal.  I  have  noticed  for  years 
that  the  only  party  politicians  in  these  islands  are  the 
people  who  are  active  on  the  other  side ;  and  that  party 
politics  are  the  other  side's  programme.  My  corre- 
spondent evidently  agreed  with  Lady  Moyne  and  Bab- 
berly  that  as  I  was  not  a  Conservative,  I  must  be  a 
supporter  of  the  Government. 

Having  made  this  quite  unwarranted  assumption,  the 
letter  went  on  to  suggest  that  I  should  ask  Conroy  if 
he  would  like  a  peerage.  The  point  was  not  made 
quite  clear,  but  I  gathered  that  Conroy  could  have  any 
kind  of  title  that  he  liked,  up  to  an  earldom.  I  know, 
of  course,  that  peerages  are  given  in  exchange  for  sub- 
scriptions to  party  funds,  by  the  party,  whichever  it 
may  be,  which  receives  the  subscriptions.  I  did  not 
know  before  that  peerages  were  ever  given  with  a  view 
to  inducing  the  happy  recipient  not  to  subscribe  to  the 
funds  of  the  other  party.  But  in  Conroy's  case  this 
must  have  been  the  motive  which  lay  behind  the  offer. 
He  had  certainly  given  Lady  Moyne  a  handsome 
cheque.  He  was  financing  McNeice's  little  paper  in 
the  most  liberal  way.  He  had,  I  suspected,  supplied 
Crossan  with  the  motor  car  in  which  he  went  about 
the  country  tuning  up  the  Orange  Lodges.  It  seemed 
quite  likely  it  was  his  money  with  which  Rose's  young 
man  bought  the  gold  brooch  which  had  attracted  Mar- 
ion's attention.  Conroy  was  undoubtedly  subsidizing 
Ulster  Unionism  very  generously.  I  suppose  it  must 
have  been  worth  while  to  stop  this  flow  of  money. 


THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER  121 

Hence  the  suggestion  that  Conroy  might  be  given  a 
peerage.  This,  at  least,  was  the  explanation  of  the 
letter  which  I  adopted  at  the  time.  I  have  since  had 
reason  to  suppose  that  the  Government  knew  more  than 
I  did  about  the  way  Conroy  was  spending  his  money, 
and  was  nervous  about  something  more  important  than 
Babberly's  occasional  demonstrations. 

My  first  impulse  was  to  burn  the  letter  and  tell  my 
correspondent  that  I  was  not  a  politician  of  any  sort, 
and  did  not  care  for  doing  this  kind  of  work.  Then 
my  curiosity  got  the  better  of  my  sense  of  honour. 
A  man  cannot,  I  think,  be  both  an  historian  and  a  gen- 
tleman. It  is  an  essential  part  of  the  character  of  a 
gentleman  that  he  should  dislike  prying  into  other  peo- 
ple's secrets.  The  business  of  the  historian,  on  the 
other  hand,  is  to  rake  about  if  necessary  through  dust- 
bins, until  he  finds  out  the  reasons,  generally  disreputa- 
ble, why  things  are  done.  A  gentleman  displays  a 
dignified  superiority  to  the  vice  of  curiosity.  For  the 
historian  curiosity  is  a  virtue.  I  am,  I  find,  more  of 
an  historian  than  a  gentleman.  I  wanted  very  much 
to  find  out  how  Conroy  would  take  the  offer  of  a  peer- 
age. I  also  wanted  to  understand  thoroughly  why  the 
offer  was  made. 

Some  weeks  were  to  pass  before  I  learned  the  Gov- 
ernment's real  reason  for  wanting  to  detach  Conroy 
from  the  Unionist  cause;  but  luck  favoured  me  in  the 
matter  of  sounding  Conroy  himself.  I  had  a  letter 
from  him  in  which  he  said  that  he  was  coming  to  our 
neighbourhood  for  a  few  days.  I  immediately  asked 
him  to  stay  with  me. 

Then  I  tried,  very  foolishly,  to  make  my  nephew 
Godfrey  feel  uncomfortable. 


122  THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER 

"  Conroy,"  I  said,  "  is  coming  here  to  stay  with  me 
next  Tuesday." 

"  How  splendid !  "  said  Godfrey.  "  I  say,  Excel- 
lency, you  will  ask  me  up  to  dinner  every  night  he's 
here,  won't  you?" 

"  I  thought,"  I  said,  "  that  you  wouldn't  like  to  meet 
Conroy." 

"  Of  course  I'd  like  to  meet  him.  He  might  give  me 
a  job  of  some  kind  or  get  me  one.  A  man  like  that 
with  millions  of  money  must  have  plenty  of  jobs  to  give 
away." 

When  Godfrey  speaks  of  a  job  he  means  a  salary. 
Nearly  everybody  does. 

"  If  I  can  only  get  the  chance  of  making  myself 
agreeable  to  him,"  said  Godfrey,  "  I'm  sure  I'll  be  able 
to  get  something  out  of  him." 

"  I'm  surprised,"  I  said,  "  at  your  wanting  to  meet 
him  at  all.  After  the  post-card  he  wrote  you  — " 

"  Oh,  I  don't  mind  that  in  the  least,"  said  Godfrey. 
"  I  never  take  offence." 

This  is,  indeed,  one  of  Godfrey's  chief  vices.  He 
never  does  take  offence.  It  was  Talleyrand,  I  think, 
who  said  that  no  man  need  ever  get  angry  about  any- 
thing said  by  a  woman  or  a  bishop.  Godfrey  im- 
proves on  this  philosophy.  He  never  gets  angry  with 
any  one  except  those  whom  he  regards  as  his  inferiors. 

"  It  would  be  a  good  opportunity,"  said  Godfrey, 
"  for  your  second  menagerie  party.  We've  only  had 
one  this  year.  I  expect  it  would  amuse  Conroy." 

"  I'm  nearly  sure  it  wouldn't." 

"  We'll  have  to  do  something  in  the  way  of  enter- 
taining while  he's  here,"  said  Godfrey.  "  I  suppose 
you'll  have  the  Moynes  over  to  dinner  ? " 


THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER  123 

I  knew  that  the  Moynes  were  in  London,  so  I  told 
Godfrey  that  he  could  write  and  ask  them  if  he  liked. 
I  tried  to  be  firm  in  my  opposition  to  the  garden-party, 
but  Godfrey  wore  me  down.  It  was  fixed  for  Wednes- 
day, and  invitations  were  sent  out.  I  discovered  after- 
wards that  Godfrey  told  his  particular  friends  that  they 
were  to  have  the  honour  of  meeting  a  real  millionaire. 
In  the  case  of  the  Pringles  he  went  so  far  as  to  hint 
that  Conroy  was  very  likely  to  give  him  a  lucrative  post. 
On  the  strength  of  this  expectation,  Pringle,  who  is  an 
easy  man  to  deceive,  allowed  Godfrey  to  cash  a  cheque 
for  £10. 

Conroy  arrived  on  Sunday  afternoon,  travelling,  as 
a  millionaire  should,  in  a  motor  car.  Godfrey  dined 
with  us  that  night,  and  made  himself  as  agreeable  as 
he  could.  Conroy  had,  apparently,  forgotten  all  about 
the  post-card.  I  did  not  get  a  minute  alone  with  my 
guest  that  night  and  so  could  do  nothing  about  the 
peerage.  I  thought  of  approaching  him  on  the  sub- 
ject next  morning  after  breakfast,  though  that  is  not  a 
good  hour  for  delicate  negotiations.  But  even  if  I 
had  been  willing  to  attack  him  then,  I  hardly  had  the 
chance.  Godfrey  was  up  with  us  at  half-past  ten.  He 
wanted  to  take  Conroy  on  a  personally  conducted  tour 
round  the  objects  of  interest  in  the  neighbourhood. 
Conroy  said  he  wanted  to  go  to  the  house  of  a  man 
called  Crossan  who  lived  somewhere  near  us,  and  would 
be  very  glad  if  Godfrey  would  act  as  guide.  It  is 
a  remarkable  proof  of  Godfrey's  great  respect  for  mil- 
lionaires that  he  consented  to  show  Conroy  the  way  to 
Crossan's  house.  They  went  off  together,  and  I  saw 
no  more  of  Conroy  till  dinner-time. 

He  deliberately  avoided  my  garden-party,  although 


124  THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER 

Godfrey  had  explained  to  him  the  night  before  that 
my  guests  would  be  "  quite  the  funniest  lot  of  bounders 
to  be  found  anywhere." 

The  Pringles  must  have  been  disappointed  at  not 
meeting  Conroy.  Miss  Pringle,  whose  name  I  found 
out  was  Tottie,  looked  quite  pretty  in  a  pink  dress, 
and  smiled  almost  as  nicely  as  she  did  when  Bob  Power 
took  her  to  gather  strawberries.  Mrs.  Pringle  asked 
Godfrey  to  dine  with  them  that  night,  and  Tottie  looked 
at  him  out  of  the  corner  of  her  eyes  so  as  to  show  him 
that  she  would  be  pleased  if  he  accepted  the  invitation. 
Pringle  himself  joined  in  pressing  Godfrey.  I  sup- 
pose he  must  really  have  believed  in  the  salary  which 
Godfrey  expected  to  get  from  Conroy. 

Godfrey  promised  to  dine  with  them.  He  explained 
his  position  to  me  afterwards. 

"  I  needn't  tell  you,  Excellency,"  he  said,  "  that  I 
don't  want  to  go  there.  I  shall  get  a  rotten  bad  dinner 
and  Mrs.  Pringle  is  a  rank  outsider." 

"  Miss  Pringle,"  I  said,  "  seems  a  pleasant  girl. 
She's  certainly  pretty." 

"  Poor  little  Tottie !"  said  Godfrey.  "  That  sort  of 
girl  isn't  bad  fun  sometimes ;  but  I  wouldn't  put  up 
with  boiled  mutton  just  for  the  sake  of  a  kiss  or  two 
from  her.  The  fact  is  — " 

"  Your  banking  account,"  I  said. 

"  That's  it,"  said  Godfrey.  "  Pringle's  directors  have 
been  writing  rather  nasty  letters  lately.  It's  perfectly 
all  right,  of  course,  and  I  told  him  so ;  but  all  the  same 
it's  better  to  accept  his  invitation." 

Godfrey  is  the  most  unmitigated  blackguard  I've  ever 
met. 


THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER  125 

"  I  hardly  see  Tottie  Pringle  as  the  next  Lady  Kil- 
more,"  said  Godfrey ;  "  but,  of  course,  that's  the  game." 

I  do  not  believe  it.  Tottie  Pringle  —  I  do  not  for 
a  moment  believe  that  she  ever  allowed  Godfrey  to  kiss 
her  —  does  not  look  the  kind  of  girl  who  — 

"  You'll  make  my  excuses  to  Conroy,  won't  you,  Ex- 
cellency? Tell  him — " 

"  What  is  the  exact  amount  of  the  over-draft  ?  "  I 
said ;  "  he'll  probably  want  to  know." 

"  Better  not  say  anything  about  that,"  said  Godfrey. 
"  Tell  him  I  had  a  business  engagement." 

Godfrey's  necessity  gave  me  my  opportunity.  I  had 
Conroy  all  to  myself  after  dinner,  and  I  sounded  him 
very  cautiously  about  the  title.  The  business  turned 
out  to  be  much  more  difficult  than  I  expected.  At  first 
Conroy  was  singularly  obtuse.  He  did  not  seem  to 
understand  what  I  was  hinting  at.  There  was  really 
no  excuse  for  him.  Our  surroundings  were  very  well 
suited  for  delicate  negotiations.  I  had  given  him  a 
bottle  of  champagne  at  dinner.  I  had  some  excellent 
port  on  the  table  afterwards.  My  dining-room  is  a 
handsome  apartment,  a  kind  of  large  hall  with  a 
vaulted  roof.  The  light  of  the  candles  on  the  table 
mingled  in  a  pleasantly  mysterious  way  with  the  twi- 
light of  the  summer  evening.  The  long  windows  lay 
wide  open  and  a  heavy  scent  of  lilies  crept  into  the 
room.  The  lamp  on  the  sideboard  behind  me  lit  up  the 
impressive  portrait  of  my  great  grandfather  in  the  uni- 
form of  a  captain  of  volunteers,  the  Irish  volunteers 
of  1780.  Any  one,  I  should  have  supposed,  would  have 
walked  delicately  among  hints  and  suggestions  in  such 
an  atmosphere,  among  such  surroundings.  But  Con- 


126  THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER 

roy  would  not.  I  was  forced  at  last  to  speak  rather 
more  plainly  than  I  had  intended  to.  Then  Conroy 
turned  on  me. 

"  What  does  your  Government  think  I  should  want 
the  darned  thing  for  ?  "  he  said. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know.     I  suppose  the  usual  reasons." 

"  What  are  they  ?  "  said  Conroy,  "  for  I'm  damned  if 
I  know." 

"  Well,"  I  said,  "  when  you  put  it  that  way  I  don't 
know  that  I  can  exactly  explain.  But  most  people  like 
it.  I  like  it  myself,  although  I'm  pretty  well  used  to 
it.  I  imagine  it  would  be  much  nicer  when  you  came 
to  it  quite  fresh.  If  you  happen  to  be  going  over  to 
London,  you  know,  it's  rather  pleasant  to  have  the  fel- 
low who  runs  the  sleeping-car  bustling  the  other  people 
out  of  the  way  and  calling  you  '  my  lord.'  " 

Conroy  sat  in  grim  silence. 

"  There's  more  than  that  in  it,"  I  said.  "  That's  only 
an  example,  quite  a  small  example  of  the  kind  of  thing 
I  mean.  But  those  little  things  count,  you  know.  And, 
of  course,  the  extra  tip  that  the  fellow  expects  in  the 
morning  wouldn't  matter  to  you." 

Conroy  still  declined  to  make  any  answer.  I  began 
to  feel  hot  and  flurried. 

"  There  are  other  points,  too,"  I  went  on.  "  For  in- 
stance a  quite  pretty  girl  called  Tottie  Pringle  wants  to 
marry  my  nephew  Godfrey  —  at  least  he  says  she  does 
—  simply  because  he'll  be  Lord  Kilmore  when  I'm  dead. 
You've  met  my  nephew  Godfrey,  so  you'll  realize  that 
she  can't  possibly  have  any  other  motive." 

"  What,"  said  Conroy,  "  does  your  Government  ex- 
pect me  to  do  in  return  for  making  me  attractive  to 
Tottie  Pringle?" 


THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER  127 

"  It's  not  my  Government,"  I  said.  "  I'm  not  mixed 
up  with  it  or  responsible  for  it  in  any  way." 

"  I  always  understood,"  said  Conroy,  "  that  you  are 
a  Liberal." 

"  Everybody  understands  that,"  I  said,  "  and  it's  no 
use  my  contradicting  it.  As  for  what  the  Government 
wants  you  to  do,  I  haven't  been  actually  told;  but  I 
fancy  you'd  be  expected  to  stop  giving  subscriptions  to 
Lady  Moyne." 

"Is  that  all?" 

"  That's  all  I  can  think  of.  But,  of  course,  there  may 
be  other  things." 

"  I  reckon,"  said  Conroy,  "  that  your  Government 
can't  be  quite  fool  enough  to  mind  much  about  what 
Lady  Moyne  does  with  my  money.  The  pennies  she 
drops  into  the  slot  so  as  to  make  Babberly  talk  won't 
hurt  them  any." 

This  was  very  much  my  own  opinion.  If  I  were  a 
member  of  the  government  —  I  rather  think  I  actually 
was,  a  few  weeks  later  —  Babberly  would  merely  stim- 
ulate me. 

"  You  can  tell  your  Government  from  me  — "  said 
Conroy. 

"  It's   not  my  Government." 

"  Well  tell  that  Government  from  me,  that  when  I 
want  a  title  I'll  put  down  the  full  market  price.  At 
present  I'm  not  taking  any." 

Next  day  Conroy  went  off  with  Crossan  in  his  motor 
car.  He  did  not  come  back.  I  got  a  telegram  from 
him  later  in  the  afternoon  asking  me  to  forward  his 
luggage  to  Belfast.  I  forget  the  excuse  he  made  for 
treating  me  in  this  very  free  and  easy  way;  but  there 
was  an  excuse,  I  know,  probably  quite  a  long  one,  for 


128  THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER 

the  telegram  filled  three  sheets  of  the  paper  which  the 
post-office  uses  for  these  messages. 

Conroy's  sudden  departure  was  a  bitter  sorrow  and 
disappointment  to  Godfrey.  He  came  up  to  dinner 
that  night  with  three  new  pearl  studs  in  the  front  of  his 
shirt. 

"  What  I  can't  understand,"  he  said,  "  is  why  a  man 
like  Conroy  should  spend  his  time  with  your  upper  serv- 
ants; people  like  Crossan,  whom  I  shouldn't  dream  of 
shaking  hands  with." 

"  I'm  afraid,"  I  said,  "  that  he's  not  going  to  give  you 
that  job  you  hoped  for." 

"  He  may,"  said  Godfrey.  "  I  think  he  liked  me  right 
enough.  If  only  he  could  be  got  to  believe  that  Power 
is  robbing  him  right  and  left." 

"But  is  he?" 

"  He's  doing  what  practically  comes  to  the  same 
thing.  Once  Conroy  finds  out  —  and  he  will  some  day 
—  I  should  think  I'd  have  a  middling  good  chance  of 
getting  his  secretaryship.  He  must  have  a  gentleman 
for  that  job,  otherwise  he'd  never  be  able  to  get  along 
at  all.  I  don't  suppose  he  knows  how  to  do  things  a 
bit.  He  evidently  doesn't  know  how  to  behave.  Look 
at  the  way  he's  gone  on  with  Crossan  since  he's  been 
here.  Now  if  I  were  his  secretary  — " 

Godfrey  mumbled  on.  He  evidently  has  hopes  of 
ousting  Bob  Power.  He  may  possibly  succeed  in  doing 
so.  Godfrey  has  all  the  cunning  characteristic  of  the 
criminal  lunatic. 

Three  days  later  he  got  his  chance  of  dealing  with 
Bob  Power.  The  Finola  anchored  in  our  bay  again  and 
Bob  Power  was  in  command  of  her. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

BOB  POWER  spent  the  afternoon  with  us.  Strictly 
speaking,  I  ought  to  say  he  spent  the  afternoon 
with  Marion.  I  only  saw  him  at  tea-time.  He  let  me 
understand  then  that  he  would  like  to  stay  and  dine 
with  us.  I  felt  that  I  ought  to  be  vexed  at  the  prospect 
of  losing  another  quiet  evening.  Conroy  had  cost  me 
two  evenings.  My  visit  to  Castle  Affey,  my  political 
March  Past,  and  my  expedition  to  Dublin  had  robbed 
me  of  nine  others.  I  could  ill  afford  to  spare  a  twelfth 
to  Bob  Power.  Yet  I  felt  unreasonably  pleased  when 
he  promised  to  dine  with  us.  There  is  a  certain  flavour 
of  the  sea  about  Bob,  a  sense  of  boisterous  good  fel- 
lowship, a  joyous  irresponsibility,  which  would  have 
been  attractive  to  me  at  any  time,  and  were  singularly 
pleasant  after  my  political  experiences.  I  was  not  at 
all  so  well  pleased  when  a  note  arrived  from  Godfrey 
in  which  he  asked  whether  he  too  could  dine  with  us. 

He  arrived  long  before  dinner,  before  I  had  gone  up- 
stairs to  dress,  and  explained  himself. 

"  I  heard,"  he  said,  "  that  Power  was  up  here,  so  I 
thought  I'd  better  come  too." 

"  How  lucky  it  is,"  I  said,  "  that  Pringle  didn't  invite 
you  to-night." 

"  I  shouldn't  have  gone  if  he  had.  I  should  have  con- 
sidered it  my  duty  to  come  here.  After  all,  Excellency, 
some  one  ought  to  look  after  Marion  a  bit." 

129 


130  THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER 

"  For  the  matter  of  that,"  I  said,  "  some  one  ought 
to  look  after  Tottie  Pringle." 

"  You  never  can  tell,"  said  Godfrey,  "  what  silly  fancy 
a  girl  will  take  into  her  head,  and  that  fellow  Power  is 
just  the  sort  who  might  — 

Godfrey  nodded  sagaciously.  It  has  always  been  un- 
derstood that  Godfrey  is  to  marry  Marion  at  some  fu- 
ture time.  I  have  always  understood  this  and,  on  per- 
sonal grounds,  dislike  it  very  much;  though  I  do  not 
deny  that  the  arrangement  is  convenient.  My  title  is 
not  a  very  ancient  or  particularly  honourable  one,  but 
I  do  not  like  to  think  of  its  being  dragged  in  the  gutter 
by  a  pauper.  If  Godfrey  married  Marion  he  would 
have  the  use  of  her  income.  Godfrey  has  certainly  un- 
derstood this  plan  for  the  future.  He  may  treat  him- 
self occasionally  to  the  kisses  of  Tottie  Pringle,  but  he 
is  not  the  man  to  allow  kissing  to  interfere  with  his 
prospect  of  earning  a  competence.  Whether  Marion 
understood  her  fate  or  not,  I  do  not  know.  She  al- 
ways endured  Godfrey  with  patience.  I  suppose  that 
this  condition  of  affairs  gave  Godfrey  a  certain  right 
to  nod  sagaciously  when  he  spoke  of  looking  after 
Marion.  But  I  resented  both  his  tone  and  the  things 
he  said.  I  left  him  and  went  up  to  dress. 

Marion's  behaviour  during  the  evening  fully  justified 
Godfrey's  fears,  though  I  do  not  think  that  anything 
would  have  excused  him  for  expressing  them  to  me. 
She  was  amazingly  cheerful  during  dinner,  and  in  so 
good  a  temper,  that  she  continued  smiling  at  Godfrey 
even  when  he  scowled  at  her.  Bob  Power  was  breezily 
agreeable,  and  I  should  have  thoroughly  enjoyed  the 
stories  he  told  us  if  I  had  not  been  conscious  all  the 
time  that  Godfrey  was  frowning  at  my  right  ear.  He 


THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER  131 

sat  on  that  side  of  me  and  Bob  Power  on  the  other,  so 
my  ear  was,  most  of  the  time,  the  nearest  thing  to  my 
face  that  Godfrey  could  frown  at. 

After  dinner  Bob  and  Marion  behaved  really  badly ; 
not  to  Godfrey,  but  to  me.  No  one  could  behave  badly 
to  Godfrey  because  he  always  deserves  worse  than  the 
worst  that  is  done  to  him.  But  I  am  not  a  very  ob- 
jectionable person,  and  I  have  during  the  last  twenty- 
two  years  shown  a  good  deal  of  kindness  to  Marion. 
I  do  not  think  that  she  and  Bob  ought  to  have  slipped 
out  of  the  drawing-room  window  after  singing  one 
short  song,  and  left  me  to  be  worried  by  Godfrey  for 
the  whole  evening.  Only  one  way  of  escape  presented 
itself  to  me.  I  pretended  to  go  to  sleep.  That  stopped 
Godfrey  talking  after  a  time ;  but  not  until  I  had  found  it 
necessary  to  snore.  I  heard  every  word  he  said  up  to 
that  point.  I  woke  up  with  a  very  good  imitation  of  a 
start  when  Bob  and  Marion  came  in  again.  That  hap- 
pened at  ten  o'clock,  and  Bob  immediately  said  good 
night.  Under  ordinary  circumstances  Godfrey  stays  on 
till  nearly  eleven ;  but  that  night  he  went  away  five 
minutes  after  Bob  left. 

Next  morning  there  was  trouble.  It  began  with 
Marion's  behaviour  at  breakfast.  As  a  rule  she  is  a 
young  woman  of  placid  and  equable  temper,  one  who 
is  likely  in  the  future  to  have  a  soothing  effect  on  her 
husband.  That  morning  she  was  very  nearly  hysterical. 
When  we  went  into  my  study  after  breakfast  she  was 
quite  incapable  of  work,  and  could  not  lay  her  hands  on 
any  of  the  papers  which  I  particularly  wanted.  I  was 
irritated  at  the  moment,  but  I  recognized  afterwards 
that  she  had  some  excuse,  and  in  any  case  my  morning's 
work  would  have  been  interrupted. 


132  THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER 

At  half-past  ten  I  got  a  note  from  Godfrey  —  written 
in  pencil  and  almost  illegible  —  in  which  he  asked  me  to 
go  down  to  see  him  at  once.  He  said  that  he  was  in 
severe  pain  and  for  the  time  confined  to  bed. 

"  You're  sure,"  he  said,  "  to  have  heard  a  garbled 
account  of  what  happened,  before  you  get  this  letter. 
I  want  to  tell  you  the  facts  before  I  take  further  ac- 
tion." 

The  word  "  facts  "  was  underlined  shakily.  I  had, 
of  course,  heard  no  account  of  anything  which  had  hap- 
pened. I  handed  the  letter  to  Marion. 

"  Do  you  know  what  this  means  ?  "  I  asked. 

Marion  read  it. 

"  Rose  told  me  this  morning,"  she  said,  "  that  there 
had  been  some  kind  of  a  row  last  night.  She  said  God- 
frey was  killed." 

"  That  isn't  true  at  all  events,"  I  said.  "  He's  still 
alive." 

"  Of  course  I  didn't  believe  her,"  said  Marion. 

"  But  I  think  you  ought  to  have  told  me  at  break- 
fast," I  said.  "  I  hate  having  these  things  sprung  on 
me  suddenly.  At  my  time  of  life  even  good  news  ought 
to  be  broken  to  me  gradually.  Any  sudden  shock  is  bad 
for  the  heart." 

"  I  thought  there  might  be  no  truth  in  the  story  at 
all,"  said  Marion,  "  and  you  know,  father,  that  you 
don't  like  being  worried." 

I  don't.     But  I  am  worried  a  great  deal. 

"  I  suppose,"  I  said,  "  that  I'd  better  go  down  and 
see  him.  He  says  he's  in  great  pain,  so  he's  not  likely 
to  be  agreeable;  but  still  I'd  better  go." 

"  Do,"  said  Marion ;  "  and,  of  course,  if  there's  any- 
thing I  can  do,  anything  I  can  send  down  to  him  — " 


THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER  133 

"  I  don't  expect  he's  as  bad  as  all  that,"  I  said. 
"  Men  like  Godfrey  are  never  seriously  hurt.  But  if 
he  expresses  a  wish  for  chicken  jelly  I'll  let  you  know 
at  once." 

I  started  at  once.  I  met  Bob  Power  just  outside  my 
own  gate.  He  was  evidently  a  little  embarrassed,  but 
he  spoke  to  me  with  the  greatest  frankness. 

"  I'm  extremely  sorry,  Lord  Kilmore,"  he  said,  "  but 
I  am  afraid  I  hurt  your  nephew  last  night." 

"Badly?" 

"  Not  very,"  said  Bob.  "  Collar  bone  and  a  couple  of 
ribs.  I  saw  the  doctor  this  morning." 

"Broken?" 

"  Yes.  It  wasn't  altogether  my  fault.  I  mean  to 
say—" 

"  I'm  sure  it  was  altogether  Godfrey's,"  I  said. 
"  The  thing  which  surprises  me  is  that  nobody  ever  did 
it  before.  Godfrey  is  nearly  thirty,  so  for  twenty  years 
at  least  every  man  he  has  met  must  have  been  tempted 
to  break  his  ribs.  We  must,  in  spite  of  what 
everybody  says,  be  a  Christian  nation.  If  we  were 
not—" 

"  He  would  keep  following  me  about,"  said  Bob. 
"  I  told  him  several  times  to  clear  away  and  go  home. 
But  he  wouldn't." 

"  He  has  a  fixed  idea  that  you're  engaged  in  smug- 
glmg." 

"  Even  if  I  was,"  said  Bob,  "  it  would  be  no  busi- 
ness of  his." 

"  That's  just  why  he  mixes  himself  up  in  it.  If  it 
had  been  his  business  he  wouldn't  have  touched  it. 
There's  nothing  Godfrey  hates  more  than  doing  any- 
thing he  ought  to  do." 


i34  THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER 

"  I'm  awfully  glad  you  take  it  that  way,"  said  Bob. 
"  I  was  afraid  — " 

"  My  dear  fellow,"  I  said,  "  I'm  delighted.  But  you 
haven't  told  me  yet  exactly  how  it  happened." 

"  I  was  moving  a  packing-case,"  said  Bob,  "  a  rather 
large  one  — " 

He  hesitated.  I  think  he  felt  that  the  packing-case 
might  require  some  explanation,  especially  as  it  was 
being  moved  at  about  eleven  o'clock  at  night.  I  has- 
tened to  reassure  him. 

"  Quite  a  proper  thing  for  you  to  be  doing,"  I  said, 
"  and  certainly  no  business  of  Godfrey's.  Every  one 
has  a  perfect  right  to  move  packing-cases  about  from 
place  to  place." 

"  He  told  me  he  was  going  for  the  police,  so  — " 

"  I  don't  think  you  need  have  taken  any  notice  of 
that  threat.  The  police  know  Godfrey  quite  well. 
They  hate  being  worried  just  as  much  as  I  do." 

"  So  I  knocked  him  down." 

"  You  must  have  hit  him  in  several  places  at  once," 
I  said,  "  to  have  broken  so  many  bones." 

"  The  fact  is,"  said  Bob,  "  that  he  got  up  again." 

"  That's  just  the  sort  of  thing  he  would  do.  Any 
man  of  ordinary  good  feeling  would  have  known  that 
when  he  was  knocked  down  he  was  meant  to  stay 
down." 

'''  Then  the  two  other  men  who  were  with  me,  young 
fellows  out  of  the  town,  set  on  him." 

"  Was  one  of  them  particularly  freckly?  "  I  asked. 

"  I  didn't  notice.     Why  do  you  ask  ?  " 

"  If  he  was  it  would  account  for  my  daughter's  maid 
getting  hold  of  an  inaccurate  version  of  the  story  this 


THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER  135 

morning.  But  it  doesn't  matter.  Go  on  with  what 
you  were  saying." 

"  There  isn't  any  more,"  said  Bob.  "  They  ham- 
mered him,  and  then  we  carried  him  home.  That's 
all." 

"  I  am  going  down  to  see  him  now,"  I  said.  "  He's 
thinking  of  taking  further  action." 

"Let  him,"  said  Bob.  "Is  Miss  D'Aubigny  at 
home?" 

"  Yes,  she  is.     If  you're  going  up  to  see  her  — " 

"  I  would,"  said  Bob,  "  if  I  thought  she  wouldn't  be 
angry  with  me." 

"  She's  nervous,"  I  said,  "  and  excited ;  but  she  didn't 
seem  angry." 

Just  outside  the  town  I  met  Crossan  and,  very  much 
to  my  surprise,  McNeice  walking  with  him.  Crossan 
handed  me  a  letter.  I  put  it  into  my  pocket  and 
greeted  McNeice. 

"  I  did  not  know  you  were  here,"  I  said.  "  When 
did  you  come  ?  " 

"  Last  night,"  said  McNeice.  "  Crossan  brought  me 
on  his  motor." 

"  Were  you  in  time  for  the  scrimmage  ?  " 

"  You'd  maybe  better  read  the  letter  I've  given  you, 
my  lord,"  said  Crossan. 

"  If  I'd  been  there,"  said  McNeice,  "  your  nephew 
would  probably  be  dead  now.  In  my  opinion  he  ought 
to  be." 

"  The  letter  I've  just  given  your  lordship,"  said 
Crossan,  "  is  an  important  one." 

"  I'm  sure  it  is,"  I  said.  "  But  I  haven't  time  to  read 
it  now." 


13.6  THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER 

"  What's  in  it,  my  lord,  is  this.  I'm  resigning  the 
management  of  your  business  here,  and  the  sooner 
you're  suited  with  a  new  man  the  better." 

"  If  my  nephew  Godfrey  has  been  worrying  you, 
Crossan,"  I  said,  "  I'll  take  steps  — " 

"  It's  not  that,  my  lord.  For  all  the  harm  his  talk 
ever  did  me  I'd  stay  on.  But — " 

He  looked  at  McNeice  as  if  asking  permission  to  say 
more. 

"  Political  business,"  said  McNeice. 

"  Of  course,"  I  said,  "  if  it's  a  matter  of  politics, 
everything  must  give  way  to  politics.  But  I'm  very 
sorry  to  lose  you,  Crossan.  My  business  affairs  — 

"  You'll  have  no  business  affairs  left,  my  lord,  if  the 
Home  Rule  Bill  passes." 

"  But  you're  going  to  stop  it,"  I  said. 

"  We  are,"  said  Crossan. 

He  certainly  believed  that  he  was.  At  the  present 
moment  he  believes  that  he  did  stop  it. 

I  found  Godfrey  propped  up  in  bed.  His  face  had 
a  curiously  unbalanced  appearance  owing  to  the  way  in 
which  one  side  of  his  jaw  was  swollen.  Bob  Power's 
original  blow  must  have  been  a  hard  one.  I  noticed 
when  he  spoke  that  one  of  his  eye  teeth  was  broken 
off  short.  He  began  to  pour  out  his  complaint  the  mo- 
ment I  entered  the  room. 

"  A  murderous  assault  was  made  on  me  last  night," 
he  said.     "  After  I  left  your  house  I  walked  down  — " 
"  Don't  talk  if  it  hurts  you,  Godfrey,"  I  said. 
He  was  speaking  in  a  muffled  way  which  led  me  to 
think  that  the  inside  of  his  mouth  must  be  nearly  as 
much  swollen  as  the  outside. 

"  That  fellow  Power  had  a  band  of  ruffians  with  him, 


THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER  137 

If  he  had  fought  fair  I  shouldn't  have  minded, 
but  — " 

"  What  were  you  doing,"  I  said,  "  to  make  him  at- 
tack you?  He  must  have  had  some  reason." 

"  I  wasn't  doing  anything.     I  was  simply  looking  on." 

"  That  may  have  been  the  most  objectionable  thing 
possible,"  I  said.  "  I  don't  say  that  his  violence  was 
justified;  but  it  may  have  been  quite  excusable  if  you 
insisted  on  looking  on  at  something  which  he  didn't 
want  you  to  see." 

Godfrey  actually  tried  to  smile.  He  could  not  do  so, 
of  course,  on  account  of  the  condition  of  his  mouth, 
but  I  judged  by  the  expression  of  his  eyes  that  he  was 
trying  to.  Godfrey's  smiles  are  always  either  malicious 
or  idiotic.  This  one,  if  it  had  come  off,  would  have 
been  malicious. 

"  I  saw  all  I  wanted  to,"  he  said,  "  before  they  at- 
tacked me.  In  fact,  I  was  just  going  for  the  police — " 

"  I  suppose  you  sent  for  the  police  this  morning  ?  " 
I  said. 

"  No,  I  didn't.  I  don't  trust  the  police.  I  wouldn't 
trust  the  magistrates  here,  except  you,  of  course,  Ex- 
cellency. What  I'm  going  to  do  is  write  to  the  Chan- 
cellor of  the  Exchequer." 

"  Good  gracious,  Godfrey !  Why  the  Chancellor  of 
the  Exchequer?  What  interest  can  you  expect  him  to 
take  in  your  fights?  If  you  are  going  to  make  a  po- 
litical matter  of  it  at  all,  you'd  far  better  try  the  Secre- 
tary of  State  for  War.  It's  much  more  in  his  line." 

"  But  the  Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer  is  the  man 
who's  responsible  for  the  revenue,  isn't  he  ?  " 

"  You  can't  expect  him  to  give  you  a  pension  sim- 
ply because  Power  knocked  out  your  teeth." 


138  THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER 

"  He'll  stop  Power  smuggling,"  said  Godfrey. 

"  I  suppose,"  I  said,  "  that  it's  no  use  my  telling  you 
that  he  was  not  smuggling?" 

"  I  saw  him  at  it,"  said  Godfrey,  "  and  I'm  going  to 
write  to  the  Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer." 

"  What  on  earth  do  you  expect  to  gain  by  that  ?  "  I 
asked. 

"  He  ought  to  be  grateful  to  me  for  putting  him  on 
the  track  of  the  smuggling,"  said  Godfrey.  "  I  should 
think  he'd  want  to  do  something  for  me  afterwards. 
He  might—" 

"  Give  you  a  job,"  I  said. 

"Yes,"  said  Godfrey.  "  I  always  heard  that  fellows 
in  the  Treasury  got  good  salaries." 

I  was  greatly  relieved  when  I  left  Godfrey.  I  ex- 
pected that  he  would  want  to  take  some  sort  of  legal 
proceedings  against  Bob  Power  which  would  have  in- 
volved us  all  in  a  great  deal  of  unpleasantness.  I 
should  not  have  been  surprised  if  he  had  tried  to  black- 
mail Bob  or  Conroy,  or  both,  and  I  should  have  dis- 
liked that  very  much.  But  his  letter  to  the  Chancellor 
of  the  Exchequer  seemed  to  be  merely  foolish.  In  the 
first  place  Bob  Power  was  not  smuggling.  In  the  next 
place  the  Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer  would  never  see 
Godfrey's  letter.  It  would  be  opened,  I  supposed,  by 
some  kind  of  clerk  or  secretary.  He  would  giggle  over 
it  and  show  it  to  a  friend.  He  would  also  giggle. 
Then  unless  the  spelling  was  unusually  eccentric  the 
letter  would  go  into  the  waste-paper  basket.  Nothing 
whatever  would  happen. 

I  was,  I  own,  entirely  wrong.  The  Chancellor  of 
the  Exchequer  did  see  the  letter.  I  take  that  for 
granted,  because  the  Prime  Minister  saw  it,  and  I  can- 


THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER  139 

not  see  how  it  could  have  got  to  him  except  through 
the  Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer.  The  spelling  may 
have  been  as  bad  as  Godfrey's  spelling  usually  is,  but 
the  letter  evidently  gave  a  detailed  account  of  what  had 
happened,  the  kind  of  account  which  impresses  people 
as  being  true.  The  letter  was,  in  fact,  the  first  direct 
evidence  the  Government  got  about  what  Conroy  and 
McNeice  and  Bob  were  doing.  I  dare  say  there  were 
suspicions  abroad  before.  The  offer  of  a  peerage  to 
Conroy  showed  that  there  was  good  reason  to  placate 
him.  But  it  was  Godfrey's  absurd  letter  which  first 
suggested  to  the  minds  of  the  Cabinet  that  Conroy  was 
using  his  yacht,  the  Finola,  for  importing  arms  into 
Ulster.  Even  then  I  do  not  think  that  anybody  in 
authority  suspected  how  thoroughly  Conroy  and 
Bob  were  doing  the  work.  They  may  have  thought 
of  a  cargo  of  rifles,  and  a  few  thousand  cartridges. 
The  existence  of  the  Ulster  artillery  was  a  surprise 
to  them  at  the  very  moment  when  the  guns  first 
opened  fire. 

So  far  from  having  no  consequences  at  all,  Godfrey's 
ridiculous  letter  actually  precipitated  the  conflict  which 
took  place.  I  do  not  think  that  it  made  any  difference 
to  the  result  of  the  fighting.  That  would  have  been  the 
same  whether  the  fighting  came  a  little  sooner  or  a 
little  later.  But  the  letter  and  the  action  of  the  Gov- 
ernment which  followed  it  certainly  disorganized  Con- 
roy's  plans  and  hustled  McNeice. 

I  found  McNeice  in  my  study  when  I  got  home.  I 
told  him,  by  way  of  a  joke,  about  the  letter  which  God- 
frey intended  to  write.  To  my  surprise  he  did  not  treat 
it  as  a  joke.  I  suppose  he  realized  at  once  what  the 
consequences  of  such  a  letter  might  be. 


I4o  THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER 

"  They  ought  to  have  put  him  past  writing  letters," 
he  growled,  "  when  they  had  him." 

Then,  without  even  saying  good-bye  to  me,  he  got 
up  and  left  the  room.  In  less  than  an  hour  he  and 
Crossan  were  rushing  off  somewhere  in  their  motor  car. 
They  may  have  gone  to  hold  a  consultation  with  Con- 
roy.  He  was  in  Belfast  at  the  time. 

I  found  Bob  Power  and  Marion  in  the  garden,  but  not, 
as  I  expected,  eating  gooseberries.  They  were  sitting  to- 
gether on  a  seat  opposite  a  small  artificial  pond  in 
which  I  try  to  keep  gold  fish.  When  I  came  upon 
them  they  were  sitting  up  straight,  and  both  of  them 
were  gazing  intently  into  the  pond.  This  surprised 
me,  because  all  the  last  consignment  of  gold  fish  had 
died,  and  there  was  nothing  in  the  pond  to  look  at. 

I  told  Bob  about  Godfrey  and  the  letter  to  the  Chan- 
cellor of  the  Exchequer.  His  reception  of  the  news 
was  even  more  disappointing  than  McNeice's  was.  He 
neither  laughed,  as  I  hoped,  nor  even  scowled.  In 
fact,  if  I  had  not  spoken  quite  distinctly,  I  should  have 
thought  that  he  did  not  hear  what  I  said. 

"  Lord  Kilmore,"  he  said,  "  I  think  I  ought  to  tell  you 
at  once  — " 

Then  he  stopped  and  looked  at  Marion.  She  became 
very  red  in  the  face. 

"  Father,"  she  said,  "  Bob  and  I  — " 

Then  she  stopped  too.  I  waited  for  a  long  time. 
Neither  of  them  did  more  than  begin  a  sentence;  but 
Bob  took  Marion's  hand  and  held  it  tight.  I  thought 
it  better  to  try  to  help  them  out. 

"  I  don't  know,"  I  said,  "  whether  I've  guessed 
rightly  — " 

"  Of  course  you  have,  father,"  said  Marion. 


THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER  141 

"  If  not,"  I  said,  "  it'll  be  very  embarrassing  for  all 
of  us  when  I  tell  you  what  my  guess  is." 

"  Marion  and  I  — "  said  Bob. 

"  Have  spent  the  morning,"  I  said,  "  in  rinding  out 
that  you  want  to  marry  each  other  ?  " 

"  Of  course  we  have,"  said  Marion. 

"  Of  course,"  said  Bob. 

The  discovery  that  they  both  wanted  the  same  thing 
made  them  ridiculously  happy.  Marion  kissed  me 
with  effusive  ardour,  putting  her  left  arm  tight  round 
my  neck,  but  still  holding  on  to  Bob  with  her  right 
hand.  Bob,  after  our  first  raptures  had  subsided  a 
little,  insisted  on  going  down  to  Godfrey's  lodgings,  and 
apologizing  for  breaking  his  ribs.  I  told  him  that  an 
apology  delivered  in  that  spirit  would  merely  intensify 
Godfrey's  wish  to  write  to  the  Chancellor  of  the  Ex- 
chequer. But  nothing  I  said  moved  Bob  in  the  least. 
He  was  so  happy  that  he  wanted  to  abase  himself  be- 
fore some  one. 


CHAPTER  XV 

BABBERLY  is  in  some  ways  a  singularly  unlucky 
man.  A  place  for  him,  and  that  a  high  one,  ought 
to  have  been  quite  secure  in  the  next  Unionist  Cabinet. 
Now  he  will  never  hold  office  under  any  government, 
and  yet  no  one  can  say  that  his  collapse  was  in  any 
way  his  own  fault. 

On  the  very  day  on  which  the  Chancellor  of  the  Ex- 
chequer received  Godfrey's  letter,  Babberly  announced 
his  intention  of  holding  another  Unionist  demonstration 
in  Belfast.  He  did  not  mean  any  harm  by  this.  He 
intended  nothing  worse  than  another  eloquent  speech 
and  expected  nothing  more  serious  than  the  usual 
cheers.  He  regards  demonstrations  very  much  as  my 
nephew  Godfrey  does  garden-parties.  They  are  trou- 
blesome functions,  requiring  a  good  deal  of  labour  and 
care  for  their  successful  accomplishment,  but  they  are 
necessary.  People  expect  something  of  the  kind  from 
time  to  time ;  and  —  if  I  do  not  give  garden-parties,  I 
should  not,  so  Godfrey  says,  keep  up  my  position  in  the 
county.  If  Babberly  did  not,  so  to  speak,  give  demon- 
strations he  would  lose  his  position  in  the  political 
world.  Babberly's  position  is,  of  course,  vastly  more 
important  than  mine. 

Moyne,  goaded  on  I  suppose  by  Lady  Moyne,  wrote 
a  letter  to  the  papers  —  perhaps  I  should  say  published 
a  manifesto  —  urging  the  extreme  importance  of  Bab- 
berly's demonstration.  This  was  necessary  because 

142 


THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER  143 

McNeice  and  O'Donovan,  in  The  Loyalist,  had  lately 
adopted  a  sneering  tone  about  demonstrations.  And 
The  Loyalist  was  becoming  an  effective  force  in  the 
guidance  of  Ulster  opinion.  Thanks  to  the  exertions  of 
Crossan,  Malcolmson  and  some  others  the  paper  was 
very  widely  circulated  and  wherever  it  went  it  was  read. 
Lady  Moyne,  I  knew,  disliked  The  Loyalist  and  was 
uneasy  about  the  tone  of  its  articles.  She  felt  it  nec- 
essary to  stimulate  the  popular  taste  for  demonstrations, 
and  wrote  Moyne's  manifesto  for  him.  It  was  a  very 
good  manifesto,  full  of  weighty  words  about  the  present 
crisis  and  the  necessity  of  standing  shoulder  to  shoulder 
against  the  iniquitous  plot  of  the  Government  for  the 
dismemberment  of  the  Empire. 

Very  much  to  my  surprise,  and  I  am  sure  to  Lady 
Moyne's,  The  Loyalist  printed  a  strong  article  in  sup- 
port of  the  proposed  demonstration.  Nothing  could 
have  been  more  flattering  than  its  reference  to  Babberly 
and  Lord  Moyne;  nothing  better  calculated  to  insure 
the  success  of  the  performance  than  the  way  in  which 
it  urged  all  Unionists  to  attend  it.  "  Assemble  in  your 
Thousands  "  was  the  phrase  used  four  times  over  in 
the  course  of  the  article.  There  was  only  one  sen- 
tence in  it  which  could  cause  any  one  the  slightest 
uneasiness. 

"  Previous  demonstrations,"  so  the  article  concluded, 
"  have  served  their  purpose  as  expressions  of  our  un- 
alterable convictions.  This  one  must  do  something 
more.  It  must  convince  the  world  that  we  mean  what 
•we  say" 

That,  of  course,  was  nothing  more  than  Babberly  had 
proclaimed  a  dozen  times  in  far  more  eloquent  language. 
Nor  was  the  fact  that  McNeice  printed  the  last  sentence 


144  THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER 

in  italics  particularly  startling.  Babberly  had  empha- 
sized the  same  statement  with  all  the  violence  possible. 
But,  so  tense  was  the  public  mind  at  this  time,  every- 
body was  vaguely  anxious  and  excited.  We  felt  that 
McNeice  attached  more  meaning  to  the  words  than 
Babberly  did. 

A  member  of  the  Cabinet  happened  to  be  speaking 
two  days  later  at  a  large  public  meeting  in  Croydon. 
He  was  supposed  to  be  explaining  the  advantages  of  the 
new  Insurance  Act  to  the  mistresses  and  servants  of  the 
smaller  middle-class  households.  There  were,  I  be- 
lieve, very  few  people  with  sufficient  faith  in  his  power 
of  apology  to  go  to  hear  him ;  but,  of  course,  there  were 
plenty  of  newspaper  reporters.  The  Cabinet  Minister 
addressed  them,  and,  ignoring  for  the  time  the  griev- 
ances of  the  British  house-and-parlourmaid,  he  an- 
nounced that  the  Government  was  going  to  stand  no 
nonsense  from  Ulster. 

"  The  leaders,"  he  said,  "  of  the  unfortunate  dupes 
who  are  to  assemble  next  week  in  Belfast,  must  under- 
stand once  for  all  that  in  a  democratically  governed 
country  the  will  of  the  majority  must  prevail,  and  His 
Majesty's  Government  is  fully  determined  to  see  that  it 
does  prevail,  at  any  cost." 

This,  again,  was  nothing  more  than  the  usual  thing. 
Only  the  last  three  words  conveyed  anything  in  the  na- 
ture of  a  threat,  and  many  papers  did  not  report  the 
last  three  words.  Babberly,  I  think,  was  quite  justified 
in  supposing  that  the  Cabinet  Minister  was  saying  no 
more  than,  according  to  the  rules  of  the  game,  he  was 
bound  to  say ;  that  he  was,  in  fact,  giving  a  garden-party 
of  his  own  to  keep  up  his  position  in  the  county.  At  all 
events  Babberly  replied  to  the  Government's  pronounce- 


THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER  145 

ment  with  a  defiance  of  the  boldest  possible  kind.  The 
Loyalist,  in  a  special  number,  published  in  the  middle  of 
the  week,  patted  Babberly  on  the  back,  and  said  that  the 
men  of  Ulster  would,  if  necessary,  assert  their  right  of 
public  meeting  with  rifles  in  their  hands. 

This  was  not  going  much  further  than  Babberly  him- 
self had  often  gone  in  earlier  stages  of  the  controversy. 
It  is  true  that  he  had  always  spoken  of  "  arms  "  which 
is  a  vague  word  and  might  mean  nothing  worse  than 
the  familiar  paving  stones.  The  Loyalist  specified  the 
kind  of  arms,  mentioned  rifles,  which  are  very  lethal 
weapons.  Still,  viewed  from  a  reasonable  standpoint, 
there  was  nothing  very  alarming  in  the  word  rifles. 

Two  days  later  Moyne  motored  over  to  my  house. 
He  seemed  greatly  disturbed,  so  I  took  him  into  my 
study  and  gave  him  tea.  While  we  were  drinking  it  he 
told  me  what  was  the  matter  with  him. 

"  Look  here,  Kilmore,"  he  said,  "  do  you  know  any- 
thing about  a  rumour  that's  flying  about?  " 

"  There  are  so  many,"  I  said. 

"  About  the  importation  of  arms  into  this  country." 

I  had  my  suspicions,  rather  more  than  suspicions,  for 
I  had  been  thinking  over  the  somewhat  remarkable 
performances  of  Bob  Power  and  the  Finola.  I  did  not, 
however,  want  to  say  anything  definite  until  I  knew  how 
much  information  Moyne  had.  After  all  Bob  Power 
had  now  arranged  to  be  my  son-in-law.  I  do  not  know 
what  the  law  does  to  people  who  import  arms  into  a 
peaceful  country;  but  the  penalty  is  sure  to  be  severe, 
and  I  did  not  want  Marion's  wedding-day  to  be  blighted 
by  the  arrest  of  the  bridegroom. 

"  They  say,"  said  Moyne,  "  that  some  of  the  cargoes 
have  been  landed  here  under  your  windows." 


146  THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER 

"  I  can  only  assure  you,"  I  said,  "  that  I  have  never 
in  my  life  imported  so  much  as  a  pocket  pistol." 

"  I  had  a  long  letter  from  Babberly  this  morning," 
said  Moyne.  "  He  had  an  interview  with  the  Prime 
Minister  yesterday.  It  appears  that  the  Government 
has  some  information." 

"  Why  doesn't  the  Government  act  upon  it  then  ?  " 

"  They  are  acting.  They  want  me  and  Babberly  to 
come  out  and  denounce  this  kind  of  thing,  to  discounte- 
nance definitely — " 

"That's  all  well  enough,"  I  said,  "but  I  don't  see 
why  you  and  Babberly  should  be  expected  to  get  the 
Government  out  of  a  hole.  In  fact  it's  your  business 
to  keep  them  in  any  holes  they  fall  into." 

"  Under  ordinary  circumstances,"  said  Moyne,  "  we 
shouldn't,  of  course,  stir  hand  or  foot.  We'd  let  them 
stew  in  their  own  juice.  And  I  may  tell  you  that's  the 
line  Babberly  thinks  we  ought  to  take.  But  I  don't 
know.  If  there's  any  truth  in  these  rumours,  and  there 
may  be,  you  know,  it  seems  to  me  that  we  are  face  to 
face  with  a  very  serious  business.  Party  politics  are  all 
right,  of  course;  and  I'm  just  as  keen  as  any  man  to 
turn  out  this  wretched'  Government.  They've  done  mis- 
chief enough,  but  —  well,  if  there's  any  truth  in  what 
they  say,  it  isn't  exactly  a  question  of  ordinary  politics, 
and  I  think  that  every  loyal  man  ought  to  stand  by  — 

"  If  there's  any  truth  in  the  rumours  — "  I  said. 

"  The  country's  in  a  queer  state,"  said  Moyne.  "  I 
don't  understand  what's  going  on." 

"  If  the  people  have  got  rifles,"  I  said,  "  they're  not 
likely  to  give  them  up  because  you  and  Babberly  tell 
them  to." 

"  Babberly  says  there's  nothing  in  it,"  said  Moyne, 


THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER  147 

doubtfully,  "  and  her  ladyship  agrees  with  him.  She 
thinks  it's  simply  a  dodge  of  the  Government  to  spike 
our  guns." 

It  is  curious  that  Moyne  cannot  help  talking  about 
guns,  even  when  he's  afraid  that  somebody  or  other  may 
really  have  one.  He  might,  under  the  circumstances, 
have  been  expected  to  use  some  other  metaphor. 
"  Cook  our  goose,"  for  instance,  would  have  expressed 
his  meaning  quite  well,  and  there  would  have  been  no 
suggestion  of  gunpowder  about  the  words. 

"  I  don't  see,"  I  said,  "  how  you  can  very  well  do 
anything  when  both  Lady  Moyne  and  Babberly  are 
against  you." 

"  I  can't  —  I  can't,  of  course.  And  yet,  don't  you 
know,  Kilmore,  I  don't  know  — " 

I  quite  appreciated  Moyne's  condition  of  mind.  I 
myself  did  not  know.  I  felt  nearly  certain  that  Bob 
Power  had  been  importing  arms  in  the  Finola.  I  sus- 
pected that  Crossan  and  others  had  been  distributing 
them.  And  yet  it  seemed  impossible  to  suppose  that 
ordinary  people,  the  men  I  lunched  with  in  the  club, 
like  Malcolmson,  the  men  who  touched  their  hats  to 
me  on  the  road,  like  Rose's  freckly-faced  lover,  the 
quiet-looking  people  whom  I  saw  at  railway  stations, 
that  those  people  actually  meant  to  shoot  off  bullets  out 
of  guns  with  the  intention  of  killing  other  people.  Of 
course,  long1  ago,  this  sort  of  killing  was  done,  but  then, 
long  ago,  men  believed  things  which  we  do  not  believe 
now.  Perhaps  I  ought  to  say  which  I  do  not  believe 
now.  Malcolmson  may  still  believe  in  what  he  calls 
"  civil  and  religious  liberty."  Crossan  certainly  applies 
his  favourite  epithet  to  the  "  Papishes."  He  may  con- 
ceivably think  that  they  would  put  him  on  a  rack  if  they 


I48  THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER 

got  the  chance.  If  he  believed  that  he  might  fight. 
And  yet  the  absurdity  of  the  thing  prevents  serious  con- 
sideration. 

The  fact  is  that  our  minds  are  so  thoroughly  attuned 
to  the  commonplace  that  we  have  lost  the  faculty  of 
imaginative  vision  of  unusual  things.  Commonplace 
men  —  I,  for  instance,  or  Babberly  —  can  imagine  a 
defeat  of  the  Liberal  Government  or  a  Unionist  victory 
at  the  General  Election,  because  Liberal  Governments 
have  been  defeated  and  Unionist  victories  have  been 
won  within  our  own  memories.  We  cannot  imagine 
that  Malcolmson  and  Crossan  and  our  large  Dean  would 
march  out  and  kill  people,  because  we  have  never  known 
any  one  who  did  such  things.  Men  with  prophetic 
minds  can  contemplate  such  possibilities,  because  they 
have  the  power  of  launching  themselves  into  the  un- 
seen. We  cannot.  This  is  the  reason  why  cataclysms, 
things  like  the  Flood  recorded  in  the  Book  of  Genesis, 
and  the  French  Revolution,  always  come  upon  societies 
unprepared  for  them.  The  prophets  foretell  them,  but 
the  common  man  has  not  the  amount  of  imagination 
which  would  make  it  possible  for  him  to  believe  the 
prophets.  "  They  eat  and  drink,  marry,  and  are  given 
in  marriage,"  until  the  day  when  the  thing  happens. 

Looking  back  now  and  considering,  in  the  light  of 
what  actually  happened,  my  own  frame  of  mind  while 
I  was  talking  to  Moyne,  I  can  only  suppose  that  it  was 
my  lack  of  imagination  which  prevented  my  realizing 
the  meaning  of  what  was  going  on  around  me. 

The  next  event  which  I  find  it  necessary  to  chronicle 
is  Conroy's  visit  to  Germany.  I  heard  about  it  from 
Marion.  She  got  a  letter  almost  every  day  from  Bob 
Power,  and  it  was  understood  that  he  was  to  pay  us  a 


THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER  149 

short  visit  at  the  end  of  that  week.  He  explained,  much 
to  Marion's  disappointment  and  mine,  that  this  visit 
must  be  postponed. 

"  The  chief,"  it  was  thus  he  wrote  of  Conroy,  "  has 
gone  over  to  Germany.  He's  always  going  over  to 
Germany.  I  fancy  he  must  have  property  there.  But 
it  doesn't  generally  matter  to  me  whether  he  goes  or 
not.  This  time  —  worse  luck  —  he  has  taken  it  into  his 
head  to  have  the  yacht  to  meet  him  at  Kiel.  I  have  to 
go  at  once." 

At  the  moment  I  attached  no  importance  whatever  to 
Conroy's  visit  to  Germany.  Now  I  have  come  to  think 
that  he  went  there  on  a  very  serious  business  indeed. 
His  immense  financial  interests  not  only  kept  him  in 
touch  with  all  the  money  markets  of  the  world.  They 
also  gave  him  a  knowledge  of  what  was  being  done 
everywhere  by  the  great  manufacturers  and  the  in- 
ventors. Moreover  Conroy's  immense  wealth,  when  he 
chose  to  use  it,  enabled  him  to  get  things  done  for  him 
very  quietly.  He  could  secure  the  delivery  of  goods 
which  he  ordered  in  unconventional  ways,  in  unusual 
places.  He  could,  for  instance,  by  means  of  lavish  ex- 
penditure and  personal  interviews,  arrange  to  have  guns 
put  unobtrusively  into  innocent  looking  tramp  steamers 
and  transhipped  from  them  in  lonely  places  to  the  hold 
of  the  Finola.  Whether  the  German  Government  had 
any  idea  of  what  was  going  on  I  do  not  know.  Foreign 
governments  are  supposed  to  be  well  supplied  with  in- 
formation about  the  manufacture  and  destination  of 
munitions  of  war.  The  English  Government,  I  am  sure, 
had  not  up  to  the  last  moment  any  definite  information. 
Its  suspicions  were  of  the  very  vaguest  kind  before  the 
Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer  received  Godfrey's  letter. 


150  THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER 

The  Belfast  demonstration  —  Babberly's  defiance  of 
the  Government's  warning  —  was  fixed  for  the  first 
Monday  in  September.  On  the  24th  of  August,  ten 
days  before  the  demonstration,  The  Loyalist  became  a 
daily  instead  of  a  weekly  paper.  Its  circulation  in- 
creased immediately.  It  was  on  sale  everywhere  in  the 
north  of  Ireland,  and  it  was  delivered  with  striking  reg- 
ularity in  out  of  the  way  places  in  which  it  was  almost 
impossible  to  get  any  other  daily  paper.  It  continued 
to  press  upon  its  readers  the  necessity  of  attending  Bab- 
berly's demonstration  in  Belfast.  It  said,  several  times 
over,  that  the  demonstration  was  to  be  one  of  armed 
men.  Parliament  was  sitting  late,  debating  wearily  the 
amendments  proposed  by  Unionists  to  the  Home  Rule 
Bill.  A  Nationalist  member  arrived  at  Westminster 
one  day  with  a  copy  of  The  Loyalist  in  his  pocket.  He 
called  the  attention  of  the  Chief  Secretary  for  Ireland 
to  the  language  used  in  one  of  the  leading  articles,  and 
asked  what  steps  were  being  taken  to  prevent  a  breach 
of  the  peace  in  Belfast  on  the  first  Monday  in  Septem- 
ber. Before  the  Chief  Secretary  could  answer  Bab- 
berly  burst  in  with  another  question. 

"  Is  is  not  a  fact,"  he  asked,  "  that  the  paper  in  ques- 
tion is  edited  by  a  notorious  Nationalist,  a  physical 
force  man,  a  declared  rebel,  one  of  the  chosen  associ- 
ates of  the  honourable  gentleman  opposite  ?  " 

The  Chief  Secretary  replied  that  he  had  no  knowledge 
of  the  political  opinions  of  the  editor  in  question  fur- 
ther than  as  they  obtained  expression  in  his  paper.  He 
appeared  to  be  a  strong  Unionist. 

Considering  that  O'Donovan  had  been  in  prison  three 
times,  and  that  papers  edited  by  him  had  been  twice 
suppressed  by  the  Government,  the  Chief  Secretary  must 


THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER  151 

have  meant  that  he  had  no  official  knowledge  of  O'Don- 
ovan's  opinions.  The  distinction  between  knowledge 
and  official  knowledge  is  one  of  the  most  valuable  things 
in  political  life. 

Babberly  displayed  the  greatest  indignation  at  this 
answer  to  his  question. 

"  Is  the  fair  fame  of  the  men  of  Ulster,"  he  asked, 
"  to  be  traduced,  is  their  unswerving  loyalty  to  the 
Crown  and  Constitution  to  be  impeached,  on  the  strength 
of  irresponsible  scribblings  emanating  from  a  Dublin 
slum?" 

The  office  of  The  Loyalist  is  in  a  slum.  So  far  Bab- 
berly was  well  informed.  He  cannot  have  known  that 
the  "  scribblings  "  were  by  the  pen  of  an  eminent  fellow 
of  Trinity  College,  or  that  the  money  which  paid  for 
printing  and  circulation  was  Conroy's. 

The  Nationalist  member  pressed  for  a  reply  to  his 
original  question.  He  said  that  he  desired  nothing  ex- 
cept that  the  Government  should  perform  the  ele- 
mentary duty  of  preserving  law  and  order. 

That  particular  Nationalist  member  had,  in  the  days 
past,  been  put  into  prison  with  the  utmost  regularity 
whenever  a  government  undertook  to  perform  the  ele- 
mentary duty  he  now  desired  to  see  undertaken.  And 
no  government  ever,  in  old  times,  undertook  such  work 
except  when  goaded  to  desperation  by  Babberly.  The 
seething  of  a  kid  in  its  mother's  milk  is  forbidden  by 
the  law  of  Moses,  which  shows  that  it  must  be  a  tempt- 
ing thing  to  do.  That  Nationalist  member  felt  the 
temptation  strongly.  He  evidently  had  hopes  of  sacri- 
ficing Babberly  on  the  altar  of  the  twin  gods  so  long 
worshipped  by  the  Ulster  members,  incarcerating  him 
in  the  sacred  names  of  law  and  order.  But  the  Chief 


152  THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER 

Secretary  did  not  see  his  way  to  make  Babberly  the 
hero  of  a  state  trial.  He  replied  that  the  Government 
was  fully  alive  to  the  duty  of  preserving  order  in  Bel- 
fast, and  refused  to  commit  himself  to  any  definite  plan 
for  dealing  with  Babberly. 

The  newspapers  made  the  most  of  the  incident,  and 
O'Donovan's  record  was  scrutinized  by  both  parties.  A 
lively  discussion  ensued  as  to  whether  a  "  Hill-sider  " 
—  some  one  discovered  that  picturesque  description  of 
O'Donovan  —  could  become  a  militant  Unionist.  The 
text  from  the  prophet  Jeremiah  about  the  spots  on  the 
leopard  was  quoted  several  times  with  great  effect. 

McNeice's  name  was  not  mentioned,  nor  was  Con- 
roy's.  We  may  suppose  that  his  connection  with  the 
University  saved  McNeice.  Trinity  College  has,  of  late 
years,  displayed  such  a  capacity  for  vigorous  self-de- 
fence, that  the  boldest  politician  hesitates  to  attack  it 
or  any  one  under  its  immediate  protection.  Conroy  es- 
caped because  no  one,  not  even  an  Irish  member,  cares 
to  ride  atilt  against  a  millionaire.  We  respect  little 
else  in  heaven  or  earth,  but  we  do,  all  of  us,  respect 
money. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

ON  the  Wednesday  before  the  day  fixed  for  the  Bel- 
fast demonstration,  a  meeting  of  the  Ulster  Un- 
ionist leaders  was  held  in  London.  Moyne  was  at  it. 
Lady  Moyne,  although  the  absurd  conventions  of  our 
political  life  prevented  her  being  present  in  person,  was 
certainly  an  influence  in  the  deliberations.  She  gave  a 
dinner-party  the  night  before  in  Moyne's  town  house. 
Babberly,  of  course,  was  at  the  dinner,  and  with  him 
most  of  the  small  group  of  Ulster  Members  of  Parlia- 
ment. Three  or  four  leading  members  of  the  Opposi- 
tion, Englishmen  who  had  spoken  on  Ulster  platforms 
and  were  in  full  sympathy  with  the  Ulster  dislike  of 
Home  Rule,  were  also  present.  Cahoon  was  not.  He 
travelled  from  Belfast  during  the  night  of  the  dinner- 
party and  only  reached  London  in  time  for  the  meeting 
of  the  Party  next  day.  I  do  not  know  whether  Cahoon 
was  invited  to  the  dinner  or  not.  Malcolmson  was  in- 
vited. He  told  me  so  himself,  but  he  did  not  accept  the 
invitation.  He  said  he  had  business  in  Belfast  and  he 
went  to  London  with  Cahoon.  The  Dean  was  at  the 
dinner-party.  His  name  appeared  in  the  newspaper 
lists  of  guests  next  morning.  McNeice  was  not  there. 
Lady  Moyne  did  not  like  McNeice,  and,  although  he  was 
a  member  of  the  "  Ulster  Defence  Committee,"  he  was 
never  admitted  to  what  might  be  called  the  social  gath- 
erings of  the  party. 

The  newspapers,  in  their  columns  of  fashionable  in- 
153 


154  THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER 

telligence,  printed  a  full  list  of  the  guests  at  this  dinner, 
and  even  noted  the  dresses  worn  by  some  of  the  chief 
ladies.  It  was  described  as  a  brilliant  function,  and 
Lady  Moyne  figured  as  "  one  of  the  most  successful  of 
our  political  hostesses."  I  have  no  doubt  that  she  was 
successful  in  impressing  her  views  on  Babberly  and  the 
others.  Whether  she  thought  it  worth  while  to  spend 
time  that  night  in  talking  to  the  Dean  I  do  not  know. 
Immediately  under  the  account  of  the  dinner-party 
there  was  a  short  paragraph  which  stated  that  Conroy, 
"  the  well-known  millionaire  yachtsman,"  had  returned 
from  a  cruise  in  the  Baltic  Sea,  and  that  the  Finola  was 
lying  off  Bangor  in  Belfast  Lough. 

In  quite  a  different  part  of  the  papers  there  were 
comments  and  articles  on  the  meeting  of  the  Ulster 
leaders  to  be  held  that  afternoon.  The  articles  in  Lib- 
eral papers  oscillated  between  entreaties  and  threats. 
One  of  them,  in  a  paper  supposed  to  be  more  or  less  in- 
spired by  the  Government,  pleased  me  greatly.  It  be- 
gan with  a  warm  tribute  to  the  loyalty  which  had  always 
characterized  the  men  of  Ulster.  Then  it  said  that 
troops  were  being  moved  to  Belfast  in  order  to  over- 
come a  turbulent  populace.  It  went  on  from  that  to 
argue  that  troops  were  entirely  unnecessary,  because 
Ulstermen,  though  pig-headed  almost  beyond  belief  in 
their  opposition  to  Home  Rule,  would  not  hesitate  for 
a  moment  when  the  choice  was  given  them  of  obeying 
or  defying  the  law.  They  would,  of  course,  obey  the 
law.  But,  so  the  article  concluded,  if  they  did  not  obey 
the  law  the  resources  of  civilization  were  by  no  means 
exhausted. 

As  no  law  had,  up  to  that  time,  been  made  forbid- 
ding the  holding  of  the  Belfast  demonstration,  this  ar- 


THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER  155 

tide  was  perhaps  premature  in  its  attempt  to  impale 
Babberly  and  his  friends  on  the  horns  of  a  dilemma. 

The  Conservative  papers  assumed  an  air  of  calm  con- 
fidence. One  of  them,  the  editor  of  which  was  in  close 
touch  with  Babberly,  said  plainly  that  dear  as  the  right 
of  free  speech  was  to  the  Unionist  leaders  they  would 
cheerfully  postpone  the  Belfast  demonstration  rather 
than  run  the  smallest  risk  of  causing  a  riot  in  the  streets. 
Political  principles,  it  is  said,  were  sacred  things,  but 
the  life  of  the  humblest  citizen  was  far  more  sacred 
than  any  principle,  and  the  world  could  confidently  rely 
on  Babberly's  being  guided  in  his  momentous  decision 
by  considerations  of  the  loftiest  patriotism. 

I  have  no  doubt  that  Babberly  fully  intended  to  do 
as  that  paper  said  he  would  do.  I  feel  certain  that 
the  informal  consultation  of  the  politicians  at  Lady 
Moyne's  dinner-party  had  ended  in  a  decision  to  post- 
pone the  demonstration.  But  things  had  passed  beyond 
the  control  of  Babberly  and  Lady  Moyne.  No  news- 
paper was  able  to  give  any  report  of  the  proceedings  of 
the  meeting  held  that  afternoon.  But  Malcolmson,  Ca- 
hoon  and  McNeice  were  all  present,  and  the  Dean,  hav- 
ing escaped  the  overpowering  atmosphere  of  Moyne 
House,  was  able  to  express  his  opinions  freely  and  forci- 
bly. On  the  other  hand  Lady  Moyne  was  not  there,  and 
Moyne,  when  it  comes  to  persuading  men,  is  a  very 
poor  substitute  for  her.  The  English  Unionists  could 
not  be  there,  so  the  weight  of  their  moderation  was  not 
felt.  The  meeting  broke  up  without  reaching  any  de- 
cision at  all ;  and  the  Belfast  demonstration  remained  on 
the  list  of  fixtures  for  the  next  week. 

Sir  Samuel  Clithering,  originally  a  manufacturer  of 
hosiery  in  the  midlands,  was  at  this  time  acting  regu- 


156  THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER 

larly  as  an  official  ambassador  of  the  Cabinet.  The  fact 
that  he  was  a  leading  Nonconformist  was,  I  fancy,  sup- 
posed to  commend  him  in  some  obscure  way  to  the 
Ulster  party.  He  spent  the  evening  after  the  meeting 
in  flying  about  in  his  motor  between  the  House  of  Com- 
mons where  Babberly  was  proposing  amendments  to  the 
Bill,  Moyne  House  where  Lady  Moyne  and  her  secre- 
tary sat  over  her  typewriter,  a  military  club  in  St. 
James'  Street  where  Malcolmson  sat  smoking  cigars, 
and  a  small  hotel  in  the  Strand  where  McNeice  and 
Cahoon  were  stopping.  The  Dean  had  left  London  for 
Belfast  immediately  after  the  meeting.  I  have  no  doubt 
that  Sir  Samuel  Clithering  did  his  best;  but  diplomacy 
applied  to  men  like  McNeice  and  Malcolmson  is  about 
as  useful  as  children's  sand  dykes  are  in  checking  the 
advance  of  flowing  tides. 

It  is  a  source  of  regret  to  me  that  my  account  of 
what  happened  in  London  is  meagre  and  disjointed.  I 
was  not  there  myself  and  events  became  so  much  more 
exciting  afterwards  that  nobody  has  any  very  clear 
recollection  of  the  course  of  these  preliminary  nego- 
tiations. 

My  own  personal  narrative  begins  again  two  days 
after  the  London  meeting,  that  is  to  say  on  the  Friday 
before  the  Belfast  demonstration. 

Godfrey  came  up  to  see  me  at  eleven  o'clock  with  his 
arm  in  a  sling. 

"  Excellency,"  he  said,  "  the  Dean  has  just  hoisted 
a  large  flag  on  the  tower  of  the  church.  I'm  sure  you 
don't  approve  of  that." 

It  is,  I  hope,  unnecessary  to  say  that  Godfrey  is  at 
feud  with  the  Dean.  The  Dean  is  a  straightforward 
and  honourable  man.  He  and  Godfrey  live  in  the  same 


THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER  157 

town.  A  quarrel  between  them  was  therefore  inevi- 
table. 

As  a  matter  of  fact  I  do  not  approve  of  the  hoisting 
of  flags  on  the  church  tower.  In  Ireland  we  only  hoist 
flags  with  a  view  to  irritating  our  enemies,  and  —  I  am 
not  an  expert  in  Christian  theology  but  it  seems  to  me 
that  church  towers  are  not  the  most  suitable  places  for 
flaunting  defiances.  The  Dean  and  I  argued  the  matter 
out  years  ago  and  arrived  at  a  working  compromise.  I 
agreed  to  make  no  protest  against  flags  on  the  I2th  of 
July.  The  Dean  promised  not  to  hoist  them  on  any 
other  day.  This  is  fairly  satisfactory  to  the  Dean  be- 
cause he  can  exult  over  his  foes  on  the  day  of  the  year 
on  which  it  is  most  of  all  desirable  to  do  so.  It  is  fairly 
satisfactory  to  me  because  on  three  hundred  and  sixty- 
four  days  out  of  every  year  the  church  remains,  in  out- 
ward appearance  at  least,  a  house  of  prayer,  and  I  am 
not  vexed  by  having  to  regard  it  as  a  den  of  politicians. 
That  is  as  much  as  can  be  expected  of  any  compromise, 
and  I  was  always  quite  loyal  to  my  share  of  the  bargain. 
The  Dean,  it  now  appeared,  was  not ;  and  Godfrey  saw 
his  chance  of  stirring  up  strife. 

"  I  don't  think,"  I  said,  "  the  Dean  can  have  anything 
to  do  with  the  flag.  He  is  in  London." 

"  He  came  back  yesterday,"  said  Godfrey,  "  and  the 
flag  he  has  hoisted  is  a  large  Union  Jack." 

Now  the  Union  Jack  is  of  all  flags  the  most  pro- 
vocative. Any  other  flag  under  the  sun,  even  the  Royal 
Standard,  might  be  hoisted  without  giving  any  very 
grave  offence  to  any  one.  But  the  Union  Jack  arouses 
the  worst  feelings  of  everybody.  Some  little  time  ago 
a  fool  flew  a  Union  Jack  out  of  the  window  of  a  Dublin 
house  underneath  which  the  Irish  leader  happened  at 


158  THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER 

the  moment  to  be  proclaiming  his  loyalty  to  the  Empire 
and  his  ungovernable  love  for  the  English  people.  The 
fool  who  hoisted  the  flag  was  afterwards  very  properly 
denounced  for  having  gone  about  to  insult  the  Irish 
nation.  The  Dean  might,  I  think,  have  set  floating  a 
banner  with  three  Orange  lilies  emblazoned  upon  it  like 
the  fleur-de-lys  of  ancient  France.  No  one's  feelings 
would  have  been  much  hurt  and  no  one's  enthusiasm 
unusually  stirred.  But  it  is  characteristic  of  the  Dean 
that  when  he  does  a  thing  at  all  he  does  it  thoroughly. 

"  Just  come  and  look  at  it,"  said  Godfrey.  "  It's 
enormous." 

We  went  into  the  library,  from  the  windows  of  which 
a  clear  view  can  be  obtained  of  the  town  and  the  church 
which  stands  above  it.  There  certainly  was  a  flag  fly- 
ing from  the  church  tower.  I  took  a  pair  of  field- 
glasses  and  satisfied  myself  that  it  was  the  Union  Jack. 

"  Would  you  like  me  to  speak  to  the  Dean  about  it  ?  " 
said  Godfrey. 

"  Certainly  not,"  I  said.  "  Any  interference  on  your 
part  would  merely  —  and  these  are  rather  exciting 
times.  The  Dean  is  entitled,  I  think,  to  a  little  license. 
I  don't  suppose  he  means  to  keep  it  there  permanently." 

Then,  borne  to  us  by  a  gentle  breeze  across  the  bay, 
came  the  sound  of  the  church  bells.  We  have  a  fine 
peal  of  bells  in  our  church,  presented  to  the  parish  by 
my  father.  They  are  seldom  properly  rung,  but  when 
they  are  —  on  Christmas  Day,  at  Easter  and  on  the  i2th 
of  July  —  the  effect  is  very  good. 

"  Surely,"  I  said,  "  the  Dean  can't  be  having  a  Harvest 
Thanksgiving  Service  yet?  It's  not  nearly  time." 

Then  I  noticed  that  instead  of  one  of  the  regular 
chimes  the  bells  were  playing  a  hymn  tune.  It  was,  as 


THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER          159 

I  might  have  guessed,  the  tune  to  which  "  O  God,  our 
help  in  ages  past  "  is  sung  in  Ireland.  The  hymn,  since 
Babberly's  first  demonstration  in  Belfast,  had  become  a 
kind  of  battle  song.  It  is,  I  think,  characteristic  of  the 
Irish  Protestants  that  they  should  have  a  tune  of  their 
own  for  this  hymn.  Elsewhere,  in  England,  in  Scot- 
land, in  the  United  States  and  the  Colonies  this  metrical 
version  of  the  cjoth  Psalm  is  sung  to  a  fine  simple  tune 
called  St.  Ann.  But  we  are  not  and  never  have  been  as 
other  men  are.  Without  a  quiver  of  our  nerves  we 
run  atilt  at  the  most  universally  accepted  traditions. 
The  very  fact  that  every  one  else  who  uses  the  hymn 
sings  it  to  the  tune  called  St.  Ann  would  incline  us  to 
find  some  other  tune  if  such  a  thing  were  obtainable. 
We  found  one  which  musicians,  recognizing  that  we 
had  some  right  to  claim  it  as  ours,  called  "  Irish  "  or 
"  Dublin."  This  tune  emerged  suddenly  from  nowhere 
in  response  to  no  particular  demand  in  the  middle  of 
the  eighteenth  century.  It  is  anonymous,  but  it  was  at 
once  wedded  to  the  words  of  that  particular  hymn,  and 
we  have  used  it  ever  since.  It  is  difficult  to  give  an 
opinion  on  the  comparative  merits  of  two  hymn  tunes, 
and  I  hesitate  to  say  that  ours  is  a  finer  one  than  that 
used  by  the  rest  of  the  English-speaking  world.  I  am, 
however,  certain  that  there  is  in  our  tune  an  unmistak- 
able suggestion  of  majestic  confidence  in  an  eternal 
righteousness,  and  that  it  very  well  expresses  the  feel- 
ing with  which  we  sing  the  hymn  at  political  demonstra- 
tions and  elsewhere.  It  came  to  me  that  day  across  the 
waters  of  the  bay,  hammered  slowly  out  by  the  swing- 
ing bells,  with  a  tremendous  sense  of  energy.  The  Eng- 
lish St.  Ann  seemed  lilty  and  almost  flippant  in  com- 
parison. 


160  THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER 

I  raised  my  glasses  again  and  took  another  look  at 
the  Union  Jack,  blown  out  from  its  flag-post  and  dis- 
playing plainly  its  tangled  crosses.  Then  I  noticed  that 
men  were  entering  the  churchyard  singly,  in  pairs  and 
in  little  groups  of  three  and  four. 

"  The  Dean,"  I  said,  "  must  have  some  sort  of  service 
in  church  to-day.  If  it  isn't  the  Harvest  Thanksgiving 
it  must  be  an  anniversary  of  something.  What  hap- 
pened at  this  time  of  year,  Godfrey  ?  I  can't  remember 
anything." 

I  still  stared  through  my  glasses.  I  was  struck  by 
the  unusual  fact  that  only  men  were  going  into  the 
church.  Then,  quite  suddenly,  I  saw  that  every  man 
was  carrying  a  gun.  I  laid  down  my  glasses  and  turned 
to  Godfrey. 

"  I  wish,"  I  said,  "  that  you'd  go  down  to  the  town  — 
not  to  the  church,  mind,  Godfrey,  but  into  the  town,  and 
ask  somebody  —  ask  the  police  sergeant  at  the  barrack 
what  is  going  on  in  the  church." 

Godfrey  is  always  at  his  very  best  when  he  has  to  find 
out  something.  He  would  have  made  almost  an  ideal 
spy.  If  any  one  is  ever  wanted  by  the  nation  for  the 
more  disagreeable  part  of  secret  service  work  I  can  con- 
fidently recommend  Godfrey. 

Half  an  hour  later  he  returned  to  me  hot  and  breath- 
less. 

"  The  police  sergeant  told  me,  Excellency,  that  the 
Dean's  going  to  march  all  the  Orangemen  and  a  lot  of 
other  men  along  with  them  to  Belfast  for  the  Unionist 
demonstration.  They  are  having  service  in  the  church 
first  and  they've  all  got  rifles." 

I  have  all  my  life  steadily  objected  to  politics  being 
mixed  with  religion.  I  hold  most  strongly  that  the 


THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER  161 

Church  ought  not  to  be  dominated  by  politicians.  The 
Church  is  degraded  and  religion  is  brought  into  con- 
tempt when  they  are  used  by  party  leaders.  But  —  the 
bells  had  ceased  ringing.  The  hymn  was  now,  no  doubt, 
being  sung  by  the  men  within.  It  occurred  to  me  sud- 
denly that  on  this  occasion  it  was  not  the  politicians  who 
were  taking  possession  of  religion,  but  religion  which 
was  asserting  its  right  to  dominate  politics.  This  is 
plainly  quite  a  different  matter.  I  can  even  imagine 
that  politics  might  be  improved  if  religion  asserted  itself 
a  little  more  frequently  than  it  does.  I  still  maintain 
that  it  is  only  right  and  fair  to  keep  politics  out  of  the 
Church.  I  am  not  at  all  sure  that  it  is  right  to  keep 
the  Church  out  of  politics. 

"  I  told  the  sergeant,"  said  Godfrey,  "  that  he  had 
better  go  and  stop  them  at  once." 

"  Oh,  did  you  ?  "  I  said.  "  Do  you  know,  Godfrey, 
that's  just  the  kind  of  suggestion  I'd  expect  you  to  make 
under  the  circumstances." 

"  Thanks  awfully,  Excellency,"  said  Godfrey.  "  I'm 
awfully  glad  you're  pleased." 

There  are  besides  the  sergeant  three  constables  in  our 
police  barrack.  They  are  armed  as  a  rule  with  short 
round  sticks.  On  very  important  occasions  they  carry 
an  inferior  kind  of  firearm  called  a  carbine.  There 
were,  I  guessed  about  three  hundred  men  in  the  church, 
and  they  were  armed  with  modern  rifles.  Godfrey's 
faith  in  the  inherent  majesty  of  the  law  was  extremely 
touching. 

"Did  he  go?"  I  asked. 

"  I  don't  think  he  intends  to,"  said  Godfrey,  "  but  he 
did  not  give  me  a  decided  answer." 

Our  police  sergeant  is  a  man  of  sense. 


l62 

"  Did  you  say,"  I  asked,  "  that  they're  going  to  march 
to  Belfast?" 

"  That's  what  the  sergeant  told  me,"  said  Godfrey. 

"  Actually  walk  the  whole  way  ?  " 

Belfast  is  a  good  many  miles  away  from  us.  It 
would,  I  suppose,  take  a  quick  walker  the  better  part  of 
two  days  to  accomplish  the  journey. 

"  He  said  '  march,'  "  said  Godfrey.  "  I  suppose  he 
meant  to  walk." 

This  is,  as  we  are  constantly  reminded,  the  twentieth 
century.  I  should  have  supposed  that  any  one  who 
wanted  to  get  from  this  place  to  Belfast  would  have 
gone  in  a  train.  Our  nearest  railway  station  is  some 
way  off,  but  one  might  walk  to  it  in  an  hour  and  a  half. 
Once  there,  the  journey  to  Belfast  can  be  accomplished 
in  another  two  hours.  It  seems  rather  absurd  to  spend 
two  days  over  it,  but  then  the  whole  thing  is  rather  ab- 
surd. The  rifles  are  absurd.  The  gathering  of  three 
hundred  men  into  a  church  to  indulge  in  a  kind  of  grace 
before  meat  as  preparation  for  a  speech  from  Babberly 
is  rather  absurd.  To  set  a  peal  of  bells  playing  —  but 
I  am  not  quite  sure  about  the  hymn  tune.  It  did  not 
sound  to  me  absurd  as  it  came  across  the  bay.  I  am, 
I  trust,  a  reasonable  man,  not  peculiarly  liable  to  be 
swept  off  my  feet  by  waves  of  emotion ;  but  there  was 
something  in  the  sound  of  that  hymn  tune  which  pre- 
vented me  from  counting  it,  along  with  our  other  per- 
formances, as  an  absurdity. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

THE  Dean  and  his  men  did  actually  march  to  Bel- 
fast. I  saw  them  there  two  days  later.  I  also 
saw  them  start,  ranged  in  very  fair  order  with  the 
Dean  at  their  head.  The  most  surprising  thing  about 
their  march  was  that  they  had  no  band.  There  are  at 
least  two  bands  in  the  town.  I  subscribe  to  both  of 
them  regularly  and  have  occasionally  given  a  donation 
to  a  third  which  enjoys  an  intermittent  existence, 
springing  into  sudden  activity  for  a  week  or  two  and 
then  disappearing  for  months.  I  asked  the  police  ser- 
geant, who  is  a  South  of  Ireland  man  and  very  acute 
of  mind,  why  none  of  the  bands  accompanied  the  army. 
The  explanation  he  gave  me  was  interesting  and  sug- 
gestive. 

"  There  isn't  as  much  as  a  boy  in  the  district,"  he 
said,  "  who'd  content  himself  with  a  drum  when  he 
might  have  the  handling  of  a  rifle." 

And  yet  an  excessive  fondness  for  drums  has  been 
reckoned  —  by  English  politicians  —  one  of  the  failings 
of  the  Ulster  man. 

I  went  to  Belfast  next  morning  quite  unexpectedly. 
No  peal  of  bells  heartened  me  for  my  start,  partly  be- 
cause all  the  bell-ringers  and  nearly  all  the  able-bodied 
members  of  the  church  in  the  parish  had  marched  forth 
with  the  Dean.  Partly  also,  I  suppose,  because  I  did 
not  travel  in  a  heroic  way.  I  am  much  too  old  to  under- 
take a  two-days'  walking  tour,  so  I  went  by  train.  God- 

163 


164  THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER 

frey  saw  me  off.  I  owed  this  attention,  I  am  sure,  to 
the  fact  that  Marion  was  with  me.  She  told  Godfrey 
that  she  was  going  to  marry  Bob  Power,  but  Godfrey 
did  not  on  that  account  cease  to  regard  her  as  his  prop- 
erty. He  had  hopes,  I  fancy,  that  Bob  Power  would 
be  killed  in  some  fight  with  a  Custom  House  officer. 
Marion,  on  the  other  hand,  was  vaguely  afraid'  that 
either  Bob  or  I  would  get  injured  while  rioting  in  Bel- 
fast. That  was  her  reason  for  going  with  me. 

I  went  because  I  received  on  Friday  evening  a  very 
urgent  letter  from  Lady  Moyne.  She  and  Lord  Moyne 
had  just  arrived  in  Belfast,  and  her  letter  was  sent  to 
me  by  a  special  messenger  on  a  motor  bicycle.  She 
wished  me  to  attend  an  extraordinary  meeting  of  the 
"  Ulster  Defence  Committee  "  which,  in  defiance  of  our 
strong  Sabbatarian  feeling,  was  to-  be  held  on  Sunday 
afternoon. 

"  We  elected  you  a  member  of  the  committee  at  a 
meeting  held  yesterday  in  London,"'  she  wrote,  "  so  you 
have  a  perfect  right  to  be  present  and  to  vote." 

That  meeting  must  have  been  held  after  McNeice, 
Malcolmson  and  Cahoon  returned  to  Ireland.  They 
regard  me  as  a  Laodicean  in  the  matter  of  Home 
Rule,  and  would  never  have  consented  to  my  sit- 
ting on  a  committee  which  controlled,  or  at  all  events 
was  supposed  to  control,  the  actions  of  the  Ulster 
leaders. 

"  It's  most  important,  dear  Lord  Kilmore,"  the  letter 
went  on,  "that  you  should  be  present  on  Sunday. 
Your  well-known  moderation  will  have  a  most  steady- 
ing influence,  and  if  it  should  come  to  a  matter  of 
voting,  your  vote  may  be  absolutely  necessary." 

After  getting  a  letter  of  that  kind  I  could  not  well 


THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER  165 

refuse  to  go  to  Belfast.  Even  without  the  letter  I 
should,  I  think,  have  gone.  I  was  naturally  anxious  to 
see  what  was  going  to  happen. 

I  spent  my  time  in  the  train  reading  several  differ- 
ent accounts  of  an  important  Nationalist  meeting  held 
the  day  before  in  a  village  in  County  Clare,  the  name 
of  which  I  have  unfortunately  forgotten.  Three  of 
the  chief  Nationalist  orators  were  there,  men  quite  equal 
to  Babberly  in  their  mastery  of  the  art  of  public  speak- 
ing. I  read  all  their  speeches ;  but  that  was  not  really 
necessary.  None  of  them  said  anything  which  the  other 
two  did  not  say,  and  none  of  them  left  out  anything 
which  the  other  two  had  said. 

They  all  began  by  declaring  that  under  Home  Rule 
all  Irishmen  should  receive  equal  consideration  and  be 
treated  with  equal  respect.  They  all  looked  forward 
to  the  day  when  they  would  be  walking  about  the  prem- 
ises at  present  occupied  by  the  Bank  of  Ireland  in  Dub- 
lin with  their  arms  round  Babberly's  neck.  The  dearest 
wish  of  their  hearts  —  so  they  all  said,  and  the  people 
of  County  Clare  cheered  heartily  —  was  to  unite  with 
Lord  Moyne,  Babberly,  Malcolmson  and  even  the  Dean 
in  the  work  of  regenerating  holy  Ireland.  Any  little 
differences  of  religious  creed  which  might  exist  would 
be  entirely  forgotten  as  soon  as  the  Home  Rule  Bill  was 
safely  passed.  They  then  went  on  to  say  that 
the  Belfast  people,  and  the  people  of  County  An- 
trim and  County  Down  generally,  were  enthusi- 
astically in  favour  of  Home  Rule.  The  fact  that  they 
elected  Unionist  members  of  Parliament  and  held  Un- 
ionist demonstrations  was  accounted  for  by  the  exist- 
ence of  a  handful  of  rack-renting  landlords,  a  few 
sweating  capitalists  and  some  clergymen  whose  churches 


i66 

were  empty  because  the  people  were  tired  of  hearing 
them  curse  the  Pope. 

Poor  Moyne  has  sold  every  acre  of  his  property  and 
the  Dean's  only  difficulty  with  the  majority  of  his  large 
congregation  is  that  he  does  not  curse  the  Pope  often 
enough  to  please  them.  Cahoon,  I  am  told,  only  sweats 
in  the  old-fashioned  intransitive  sense  of  the  word. 
He  is  frequently  bathed  in  perspiration  himself.  I 
never  heard  of  his  insisting  on  his  workmen  getting 
any  hotter  than  was  natural  and  necessary.  But  these 
criticisms  are  beside  the  mark.  No  one  supposes  that 
a  political  orator  means  to  tell  the  truth  when  he  is 
making  a  speech.  Politics  could  not  be  carried  on  if  he 
did.  What  the  public  expects  and  generally  insists  on 
is  that  the  inevitable  lies  should  have  their  loins  girt 
about  with  a  specious  appearance  of  truthfulness. 
Every  speaker  must  offer  distinct  and  convincing  proofs 
that  his  statements  are  strictly  accurate  reflections  of 
fact.  The  best  and  simplest  way  of  doing  this  is  by 
means  of  bold  challenge.  The  speaker  offers  to  deposit 
a  large  sum  of  money  with  the  local  mayor  to  be  paid 
over  to  a  deserving  charity,  if  any  opponent  of  the 
speaker  can,  to  the  satisfaction  of  twelve  honourable 
men,  generally  named,  disprove  some  quite  irrelevant 
truism,  or  can  prove  to  the  satisfaction  of  the  same 
twelve  men  the  falsity  of  some  universally  accepted 
platitude.  This  method  is  very  popular  with  orators, 
and  invariably  carries  conviction  to  their  audiences. 

The  Nationalist  members  in  County  Clare  broke 
away  into  a  variant  of  the  familiar  plan.  They  chal- 
lenged the  Government. 

"  Let  the  Government,"  they  said,  all  three  of  them, 
"  proclaim  the  meeting  to  be  held  in  Belfast  on  Monday 


THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER  167 

next,  and  allow  the  public  to  watch  with  contempt  the 
deflation  of  the  wind-distended  bladder  of  Ulster  oppo- 
sition to  Home  Rule.  We  venture  to  say  that  the  little 
group  of  selfish  wire-pullers  at  whose  bidding  the 
meeting  has  been  summoned,  will  sneak  away  before  the 
batons  of  half  a  dozen  policemen,  and  their  followers 
will  be  found  to  be  non-existent." 

The  Government,  apparently,  believed  the  National- 
ist orators,  or  half  believed  them.  Sir  Samuel  dither- 
ing was  sent  over  to  Belfast,  to  report,  confidentially,  on 
the  temper  of  the  people.  He  must  have  sent  off  his 
despatch  before  the  Dean's  army  marched  in,  before  any 
of  the  armies  then  converging  on  the  city  arrived,  be- 
fore the  Belfast  people  had  got  out  their  rifles.  The 
Government  in  the  most  solemn  and  impressive  man- 
ner, proclaimed  the  meeting.  That  was  the  news  with 
which  we  were  greeted  when  our  train  drew  up  at  the 
platform  in  Belfast. 

The  proclamation  of  meeting  is  one  of  the  regular 
resources  of  governments  when  Irish  affairs  get  into 
a  particularly  annoying  tangle.  There  have  been  dur- 
ing my  time  hundreds  of  meetings  proclaimed  in  dif- 
ferent parts  of  the  country.  The  Lord  Lieutenant  and 
the  Chief  Secretary  never  get  any  thanks  for  their  ac- 
tion. The  people  who  want  to  hold  the  meeting  always 
accuse  the  Government  of  violating  the  right  of  free 
speech  and  substituting  a  military  tyranny  for  the 
Magna  Charta.  The  other  people  who  do  not  want  the 
meeting  to  be  held  always  say  that  the  Government 
ought  to  have  proclaimed  it  much  sooner  than  it  did, 
and  ought  to  have  imprisoned,  perhaps  beheaded,  the 
men  who  intended  to  speak  at  the  meeting. 

Bob  Power  met  us  on  the  platform,  which  was  hor- 


168  THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER 

ribly  crowded,  and  immediately  conducted  Marion  to 
a  motor  car  which  he  had  in  waiting  outside  the  sta- 
tion. Then  he  came  back  to  me  and  we  went  together 
in  search  of  Marion's  luggage.  It  was  while  we  were 
pushing  our  way  through  the  crowd  that  he  told  me 
the  great  news.  I  said  that  the  failure  of  the  demon- 
stration would  be  a  disappointment  to  the  Dean  and 
his  riflemen  who  would  have  to  walk  all  the  way  home 
again  without  hearing  Babberly's  speech. 

"  I'm  not  so  sure  abqut  that,"  said  Bob.  "  We  may 
have  the  meeting  in  spite  of  their  teeth." 

"  You  can't  possibly,"  I  said,  "  hold  a  meeting  when 
—  dear  me !  Who  are  those  ?  " 

There  was  a  crowd  round  the  luggage  van  where  we 
were  trying  to  discover  Marion's  trunk.  An  unman- 
nerly porter  shoved  me  back,  and  I  bumped  into  a  man 
who  had  something  hard  and  knobby  in  his  hand.  I 
looked  round.  He  was  a  soldier  in  the  regular  khaki 
uniform  with  a  rifle  in  his  hand.  The  bayonet  was 
fixed.  I  felt  deeply  thankful  that  it  was  pointing  up- 
wards and  not  in  a  horizontal  direction  when  the  porter 
charged  me.  It  might  quite  easily  have  gone  through 
my  back.  This  man  appeared  to  be  a  kind  of  outpost 
sentry.  Behind  him,  all  similarly  armed,  were  twenty 
or  thirty  more  men  drawn  up  with  their  backs  to  the 
wall  of  the  station.  A  youth,  who  looked  bored  and 
disgusted,  was  in  command  of  them  and  stood  at  the 
end  of  the  line.  His  sword  struck  me  as  being  far  too 
big  for  him. 

"  Who  on  earth  are  those  ?  "  I  said. 

"  Those,"  said  Bob,  "  are  the  troops  who  are  overaw- 
ing us.  Some  of  them.  There  are  lots  more.  You'll 
see  them  at  every  street  corner  as  we  go  along.  By 


THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER  169 

jove!  I  believe  that's  Nosey  Henderson  in  command 
of  this  detachment.  Excuse  me  one  moment,  Lord  Kil- 
more.  Henderson  was  with  me  at  Harrow.  I'll  just 
shake  hands  with  him." 

He  turned  to  the  young  officer  as  he  spoke. 

"  Hullo  Nosey,"  he  said,  "  I  didn't  know  you  were  in 
these  parts." 

"  Ordered  up  from  the  Curragh,"  said  Henderson. 
"  Damned  nuisance  this  sort  of  police  duty.  We 
oughtn't  to  be  asked  to  do  it." 

"  Your  particular  job,"  said  Bob,  "  is  to  overawe  the 
railway  porters,  I  suppose." 

"  Been  here  since  nine  o'clock  this  morning,"  said 
Henderson,  "  and  haven't  had  a  blessed  thing  to  eat  ex- 
cept two  water  biscuits.  What's  the  row  all  about? 
That's  what  I  can't  make  out." 

"Oh!  It's  quite  simple,"  said  Bob.  "Our  side 
wants  to  hold  a  meeting  — " 

"  You  are  on  a  side  then,  are  you  ?  " 

"  Of  course  I  am,"  said  Bob.  "  I'm  in  command  of 
a  company  of  volunteers.  We  don't  run  to  khaki 
uniforms  and  brass  buttons,  but  we've  got  guns  all 
right." 

"  I  say,"  said  Henderson,  "  tell  me  this  now.  Any 
chance  of  a  scrap?  Real  fighting,  you  know?  I've 
been  asking  all  sorts  of  fellows,  and  nobody  seems  to 
be  able  to  say  for  certain." 

"  We  shan't  begin  it,"  said  Bob ;  "  but,  of  course,  if 
you  get  prodding  at  us  with  those  spikes  you  have  at 
the  end  of  your  guns  — " 

"  There  are  a  lot  of  fellows  in  this  town  that  would 
be  all  the  better  of  being  prodded.  Every  porter  that 
walks  along  the  platform  spits  when  he  passes  us  in  a 


i;o  THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER 

damned  offensive  way.  You  would  think  they  were 
looking  for  trouble." 

The  crowd  round  the  luggage  van  cleared  away  a 
little  and  we  found  Marion's  trunk.  Bob  handed  it 
over  to  a  porter  and  we  joined  Marion  in  the  motor 
car. 

The  scene  outside  the  station  was  striking.  A  con- 
siderable body  of  dragoons,  some  mounted,  some  on 
foot  beside  their  horses,  were  grouped  together  near 
the  great  gate  which  led  into  the  railway  company's 
yard.  Their  accoutrements  and  the  bridles  of  their 
horses  jangled  at  every  movement  in  a  way  very  sug- 
gestive of  military  ardour.  The  trappings  of  horse 
soldiers  are  evidently  made  as  noisy  as  possible.  Per- 
haps with  the  idea  of  keeping  up  the  spirits  of  the  men. 
Some  Highlanders,  complete  in  their  kilts,  stood  op- 
posite the  dragoons  at  the  other  end  of  the  yard.  A 
sergeant  was  shouting  explosive  monosyllables  at  them 
in  order  to  make  them  turn  to  the  left  or  to  the  right 
as  he  thought  desirable.  Behind  them  were  some  other 
soldiers,  Englishmen  I  presume,  who  wore  ordinary 
trousers.  They  were  sitting  on  a  flight  of  stone  steps 
eating  chunks  of  dry  bread.  Their  rifles  were  neatly 
stacked  behind  them.  Round  the  motor  car  were  about 
thirty  men  whom  I  hesitate  to  call  civilians,  because 
they  had  rifles  in  their  hands;  but  who  were  certainly 
not  real  soldiers,  for  they  had  no  uniforms.  They 
looked  to  me  like  young  farmers. 

"  My  fellows,"  said  Bob,  pointing  to  these  men. 
"  Pretty  tidy  looking  lot,  aren't  they  ?  I  brought  them 
along  as  a  sort  of  guard  of  honour  for  Marion.  They're 
not  really  the  least  necessary;  but  I  thought  you  and 
she  might  be  pleased  to  see  them." 


THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER  171 

Here  and  there,  scattered  among  the  military  and 
Bob's  irregular  troops,  were  black  uniformed  police- 
men, rosy-faced  young  men,  fresh  from  a  healthy  life 
among  the  cattle  ranches  of  Roscommon,  drafted  to 
their  own  immense  bewilderment  into  this  strange  city 
of  Belfast,  where  no  one  regarded  them  with  any  rev- 
erence, or  treated  them  with  the  smallest  respect.  The 
motor  car  started,  creeping  at  a  walking  pace  through 
the  mingled  crowd  of  armed  men  who  thronged  the 
entrance  to  the  station.  Our  guard  of  honour,  some 
of  them  smoking,  some  stopping  for  a  moment  to  ex- 
change greetings  with  acquaintance,  kept  up  with  us 
pretty  well.  Then,  as  we  got  clear  of  the  station  and 
went  faster,  we  left  our  guard  behind.  One  man  in- 
deed, with  a  singular  devotion  to  duty,  poked  his  rifle 
into  the  car  and  then  ran  alongside  of  us  with  his  hand 
on  the  mudguard.  He  carried  Marion's  trunk  into  the 
hotel  when  we  got  there. 

Our  drive  was  an  exciting  one.  At  every  street  cor- 
ner there  were  parties  of  soldiers.  Along  every 
street  stalwart  policemen  strolled  in  pairs.  There  were 
certainly  hundreds  of  armed  irregulars.  For  the  most 
part  these  men  seemed  to  be  under  no  control ;  but  oc- 
casionally we  met  a  party  marching  in  something  like 
military  formation,  led  by  an  officer,  grave  with  re- 
sponsibility. One  company,  I  remember,  got  in  our 
way  and  for  a  long  time  could  not  get  out  of  it.  Their 
officer  had  been  drilling  them  carefully  and  they  were 
all  most  anxious  to  obey  his  orders.  The  difficulty  was 
that  he  could  not  recollect  at  the  moment  what  orders 
he  ought  to  give  to  get  them  out  of  our  way.  He 
halted  them  to  begin  with.  Then  in  firm  tones,  he  com- 
manded a  half-right  turn  and  a  quick  march.  We  had 


172  THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER 

to  back  our  car  to  avoid  collision  with  the  middle  part 
of  the  column.  Their  officer  halted  them  again.  We 
offered  to  go  back  and  take  another  route  to  our  hotel ; 
but  the  officer  would  not  hear  of  this.  He  told  his 
men  to  stand  at  ease  while  he  consulted  a  handbook 
on  military  evolutions.  In  the  end  he  gave  the  prob- 
lem up. 

"  Get  out  of  the  way,  will  you,"  he  said,  "  and  form 
up  again  when  the  car  is  past." 

This  was  unconventional,  but  quite  effective.  The 
men  —  and  it  is  to  their  credit  that  not  one  of  them 
smiled  —  broke  their  formation,  scattered  to  right  and 
left  and  reformed  after  we  had  passed.  This  took 
place  in  a  narrow  side  street  in  which  there  was  very 
little  traffic.  I  recognized  the  wisdom  of  the  officer 
in  choosing  such  a  place  for  his  manoeuvres. 

In  the  main  streets  the  business  of  the  town  seemed 
to  be  going  on  very  much  as  usual.  It  was  Saturday 
afternoon.  Shops  and  offices  were  closing.  Young 
men  and  girls  passed  out  of  them  and  thronged  the 
trams  which  were  leaving  the  centre  of  the  city.  They 
took  very  little  notice  of  the  soldiers  or  the  police. 
In  the  poorer  streets  women  with  baskets  on  their  arms 
were  doing  their  weekly  shopping  at  the  stalls  of  small 
butchers  and  greengrocers.  Groups  of  factory  girls 
marched  along  with  linked  arms,  enjoying  their  out- 
ing, unaffected  apparently  by  the  unusual  condition  of 
their  streets.  The  newspaper  boys  did  a  roaring  trade, 
shrieking  promises  of  sensational  news  to  be  found  in 
the  pages  of  the  Telegraph  and  Echo. 

Marion  became  intensely  excited. 

"  Doesn't  it  look  just  as  if  the  town  had  been  cap- 
tured by  an  enemy,"  she  said,  "  after  a  long  siege  ?  " 


THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER  173 

"  It  'hasn't  been  captured  yet,"  said  Bob. 

I  have  often  tried  to  understand  how  it  was  that 
Bob  Power  came  to  take  the  active  part  he  did  in  the 
fighting  which  followed,  and  how  he  came  to  be  in 
command  of  a  body  of  volunteers.  He  had  not,  so 
far  as  I  know,  any  actual  hatred  of  the  idea  of  Home 
Rule.  He  was  too  light-hearted  to  be  in  full  sympathy 
with  fanatical  Puritans  like  Crossan  and  McNeice. 
He  certainly  had  no  hatred  of  the  British  Empire  or 
the  English  army.  He  was,  up  to  the  last  moment, 
on  friendly  terms  with  those  of  the  army  officers  whom 
he  happened  to  know.  He  chatted  with  them  and  with 
detached  inspectors  of  police  in  the  same  friendly  way 
as  he  did  with  Henderson  at  the  railway  station. 

I  can  only  suppose  that  he  regarded  the  whole  busi- 
ness—  to  begin  with  at  all  events  —  as  a  large  adven- 
ture of  a  novel  and  delightful  kind.  He  went  into  it 
very  much  as  many  volunteers  went  into  the  Boer 
War,  without  any  very  strong  convictions  about  the 
righteousness  of  the  cause  in  which  he  fought,  cer- 
tainly without  any  realization  of  the  horror  of  actual 
bloodshed. 

There  are  men  of  this  temperament,  fortunately  a 
good  many  of  them.  If  they  did  not  exist  in  large 
numbers  the  world's  fighting  would  be  very  badly  done. 
The  mere  mercenary  —  uninspired  by  the  passion  for 
adventure  —  will  at  the  best  do  as  little  fighting  as 
possible,  and  do  it  with  the  smallest  amount  of  ardour. 
Fanatics  cannot  be  had  to  order.  Some  kind  of  idea 
—  in  most  cases  a  religious  idea  —  is  necessary  to  turn 
the  ordinary  church-going  business  man  or  farmer  into 
an  efficient  fighting  unit.  The  kind  of  patriotism  which 
is  prepared  to  make  sacrifices,  to  endure  bodily  pain 


174  THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER 

and  risk  death,  is  very  rare.  It  is  on  the  men  who 
enjoy  risk,  who  love  struggle,  who  face  death  with  a 
laugh,  the  men  of  Bob  Power's  reckless  temperament, 
that  the  world  must  rely  when  it  wants  fighting  done. 
Hitherto  men  of  this  kind  have  been  plentiful. 
Whether  our  advancing  civilization  is  going  to  destroy 
the  breed  is  a  question  which,  I  am  pleased  to  say,  need 
not  be  answered  by  my  generation.  There  are  enough 
Bob  Powers  alive  to  last  my  time. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

I  FULLY  intended  to  go  to  church  on  Sunday  morn- 
ing. I  was,  in  fact,  waiting  for  Marion  at  the 
door  of  the  hotel,  when  Sir  Samuel  Clithering  came  to 
see  me. 

"  I  shall  be  so  much  obliged,"  he  said,  "  if  you  will 
spare  me  a  few  minutes." 

I  did  not  want  to  spare  any  minutes  to  Sir  Samuel 
Clithering.  In  the  first  place  I  had  promised  to  take 
Marion  to  the  cathedral.  "  A  Parade  Service " —  I 
quote  the  official  title  of  the  function  —  was  to  be  held 
for  the  benefit  of  the  volunteers  and  Marion  naturally 
wanted  to  see  Bob  Power  at  the  head  of  his  men.  I 
wanted  to  hear  the  men  singing  that  hymn  again,  and 
I  wanted  to  hear  what  sort  of  sermon  the  Dean  — 
our  Dean,  not  the  Dean  of  the  cathedral  —  would  preach 
on  such  an  occasion.  He  was  advertised  to  preach,  as 
"  Chaplain  General  of  the  Loyalists."  These  were  three 
good  reasons  for  not  giving  Sir  Samuel  Clithering  the 
few  minutes  he  demanded.  I  had,  also,  a  fourth.  I 
had  held,  as  I  have  related,  previous  communications 
with  Clithering.  I  suspected  him  of  having  more  peer- 
ages in  his  pocket  for  distribution,  and  I  did  not  want  to 
undertake  any  further  negotiations  like  that  with  Con- 
roy.  He  might  even  —  and  I  particularly  disliked  the 
idea  —  be  empowered  to  offer  our  Dean  an  English 
bishopric. 

175 


176          THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER 

I  kept  this  last  reason  to  myself,  but  I  stated  the 
other  three  fully  to  Sir  Samuel.  He  seemed  dissat- 
isfied. 

"  Everybody's  going  to  church,"  he  complained.  "  I 
can't  get  Lord  Moyne.  I  can't  get  Babberly.  I  can't 
get  Malcolmson,  and  it's  really  most  important  that  I 
should  see  some  one.  Going  to  church  is  all  very 
well  — " 

"  As  a  leading  Nonconformist,"  I  said. 

"  Free  Churchman,"  said  Sir  Samuel. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  Free  Churchman.  You  ought 
not  to  object  to  people  going  to  church.  I've  always 
understood  that  the  Free  Churchmen  are  honourably 
distinguished  from  other  Christians  by  their  respect  for 
the  practice  of  Sunday  worship." 

"Of  course,  I  don't  object  to  people  going  to  church. 
I  should  be  there  myself  if  it  were  not  that  — " 

He  hesitated.  I  thought  he  might  be  searching  for 
an  appropriate  text  of  Scripture  so  I  helped  him. 

"  Your  ass,"  I  said,  "  has  fallen  into  a  pit,  and  you 
want  — " 

This  was  evidently  not  exactly  the  text  he  wanted. 
He  seemed  astonished  when  I  quoted  it. 

"Ass!  "he  said.     "What  ass?" 

"  The  Government,"  I  said.  "  It  is  in  rather  a  hole, 
isn't  it?" 

"  Capital,"  said  Clithering,  laughing  without  the 
smallest  appearance  of  mirth,  "  capital !  I  didn't  catch 
the  point  for  a  moment,  but  I  do  now.  My  ass  has 
fallen  into  a  pit.  You  put  the  matter  in  a  nutshell, 
Lord  Kilmore.  I  don't  mind  confessing  that  a  pit  of 
rather  an  inconvenient  size  does  lie  in  front  of  us  I 
feel  sure  that  you,  as  a  humane  man,  won't  refuse 


THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER  177 

your  help  in  the  charitable  work  of  helping  to  get  us 
out." 

Marion  came  downstairs  in  her  best  hat.  It  was 
not  for  nothing  that  Bob  Power  and  I  and  the  running 
volunteer  had  struggled  with  her  trunk.  Her  frock, 
also,  was  charming. 

"  Your  daughter,"  said  Clithering.  "  Now  my  dear 
young  lady,  you  must  spare  your  father  to  me  for  an 
hour.  Affairs  of  state.  Affairs  of  state.  But  you'll 
allow  me  to  send  you  to  church  in  my  car.  My  private 
secretary  is  in  it,  and  I  shall  tell  him  to  see  you  safely 
to  church,  to  secure  a  seat  for  you  — " 

"  The  Dean  has  reserved  seats  for  us,"  I  said. 

"  Capital,  capital.  We  can  regard  that  as  settled 
then.  My  private  secretary  —  an  excellent  young  fel- 
low whom  I  picked  up  at  Toynbee  Hall  —  a  student 
of  our  social  problems  —  a  man  whom  I'm  sure  you'll 
like." 

He  conducted  Marion  to  the  door  and  handed  her 
over  to  the  private  secretary  from  Toynbee  Hall.  I 
resigned  myself  and  led  Clithering  to  a  deserted  smok- 
ing-room. 

"  I  never  saw  so  much  church-going  anywhere,''  he 
said.  "  It's  most  remarkable.  I  don't  think  the  Gov- 
ernment quite  appreciates — " 

As  a  matter  of  fact  the  percentage  of  church-going 
men  on  that  particular  Sunday  was  considerably  over 
the  average.  On  the  other  hand  there  were  much  fewer 
women  than  usual.  Every  church  of  every  Protestant 
denomination  was  holding  a  "  Parade  Service  "  for  vol- 
unteers, and  most  of  the  women  who  tried  to  get  in  had 
to  be  turned  away  from  the  doors.  I  thought  it  well  to 
rub  the  facts  in  a  little. 


178  THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER 

"  Rack-renting  landlords,"  I  said.  "  Sweating  cap- 
italists, and  clergymen  whose  churches  are  empty  be- 
cause their  congregations  are  tired  of  hearing  them 
curse  the  Pope !  " 

"  Eh?  "  said  dithering,  "  what's  that?  what's  that?  " 

"  Only  a  quotation,"  I  said.  "  I  forget  if  it  was  a 
Cabinet  Minister — " 

"  Not  at  all,"  said  Clithering.  "  I  recollect  the  words 
now.  It  was  one  of  the  Irish  Members.  No  Cabinet 
Minister  would  dream  of  saying  such  things.  We  have 
a  high  sense  of  the  importance  of  the  Ulster  problem. 
Nothing,  I  assure  you,  is  further  from  our  minds  than 
the  desire  to  minimize  or  treat  with  undue  flippancy  the 
conscientious  objections,  even  the  somewhat  unreason- 
able fears  of  men  whom  we  recognize  as  — " 

Clithering  paused.  I  had  not  anything  particular  to 
say,  so  I  waited  for  him  to  begin  again. 

"  I  understand,"  he  said,  "  that  a  meeting  of  the 
Unionist  Defence  Committee  is  to  be  held  this  after- 
noon." 

"  Yes,"  I  said.  "  I'm  going  to  it.  I'm  not  really  a 
member  of  the  committee,  at  least  I  wasn't  until  yester- 
day; but—" 

"  I  quite  understand,  quite  understand.  In  fact  — 
speaking  now  in  the  strictest  confidence  —  I  may  say 
that  the  suggestion  to  add  your  name  to  the  committee 
was  made  —  well  it  was  made  to  Lady  Moyne  by  a  very 
important  person.  It  was  generally  recognized  that  a 
man  of  your  well-known  moderation  — " 

I  was  beginning  to  dislike  being  called  a  man  of  mod- 
eration nearly  as  much  as  I  disliked  being  called  a  Lib- 
eral. 

"  What  do  you  want  me  to  do  ?  "  I  asked. 


THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER  179 

"  The  situation  —  the  very  difficult  and  distressing 
situation  is  this,"  said  dithering,  "  stated  roughly  it  is 
this.  The  Government  has  proclaimed  to-morrow's 
meeting." 

"  That,"  I  said,  "  is  the  pit  into  which  —  I  don't  want 
to  be  offensive  —  I'll  say,  your  ox  has  fallen." 

"  And  the  town  is  full  of  troops  and  police.  Any 
attempt  to  hold  the  meeting  can  only  result  in  blood- 
shed, deplorable  bloodshed,  the  lives  of  men  and  women, 
innocent  women  sacrificed." 

"  The  strength  of  Babberly's  position,"  I  said,  "  is 
that  he  doesn't  think  bloodshed  deplorable." 

"  But  he  does.  He  told  me  so  in  London.  He  re- 
peated the  same  thing  this  morning." 

"  I  don't  mean  Babberly  personally,"  I  said,  "  I  mean 
his  party;  Malcolmson,  you  know,  and  our  Dean.  If 
you'd  only  gone  to  hear  the  Dean  preach  this  morning 
you'd  know  what  he  thinks  about  blood.  I've  often 
heard  him  say  that  the  last  drop  of  it  —  mind  that  now, 
Sir  Samuel  —  the  last  drop  ought  to  be  shed.  That's 
going  as  far  as  any  one  very  well  could,  isn't  it?  " 

"  But  he  must,"  said  dithering,  "  he  must  think 
bloodshed  deplorable." 

"  No,  he  doesn't,"  I  said.  "  You  mustn't  think  every- 
body is  like  your  Government.  It's  humanitarian. 
We're  not.  We're  business  men." 

Clithering  caught  at  the  last  phrase.  It  appealed 
to  him.  He  did  not  know  the  meaning  attached  to  it 
by  Cahoon. 

"  That's  just  it,"  he  said.  "  We  want  to  appeal  to 
you  as  business  men.  We  want  to  suggest  a  reasonable 
compromise." 

"  I'm  afraid,"  I  said,  "  that  you've  come  to  the  wrong 


i8o  THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER 

place.  I'm  not  the  least  averse  to  compromises  my- 
self, in  fact  I  love 'them.  But  the  Belfast  business  man 
— You  don't  quite  understand  him,  I'm  afraid,  Sir  Sam- 
uel. Have  you  heard  him  singing  his  hymn  ?  " 

"  No.  What  hymn  ?  But  leaving  the  question  of 
hymns  aside  for  the  moment  — 

"  You  can't  do  that,"  I  said,  "  the  hymn  is  the  central 
fact  in  the  situation." 

Clithering  thought  this  over  and  evidently  failed  to 
understand  it. 

"  What  I  am  empowered  to  suggest,"  he  said,  "  is  a 
compromise  so  very  favourable  to  the  Ulster  claims 
that  I  can  hardly  imagine  your  rejecting  it.  The  Gov- 
ernment will  allow  the  meeting  to  be  held  this  day 
week  if  your  committee  will  agree  to  the  postpone- 
ment." 

"  If,"  I  said,  "  you  will  also  withdraw  your  Home 
Rule  Bill  — " 

"  But  we  can't,"  said  Clithering.  "  We  can't  do  that. 
We'll  insert  any  reasonable  safeguards.  We'll  concede 
anything  that  Ulster  likes  to  ask,  but  we're  pledged, 
absolutely  pledged,  to  the  Bill." 

"  Well,"  I  said,  "  as  far  as  pledges  are  concerned, 
we're  pledged  against  it." 

"  What  we  deprecate,"  said  Sir  Samuel,  "  is  violence 
of  any  kind.  Constitutional  agitation,  even  if  carried 
on  with  great  bitterness  is  one  thing.  Violence  —  but 
I'm  sure,  Lord  Kilmore,  that  we  can  rely  on  you  to  use 
your  influence  at  the  meeting  this  afternoon  to  secure 
the  acceptance  of  the  terms  we  offer.  I'm  sure  we  can 
count  on  you.  You  can't  want  bloodshed." 

I  did  not  want  bloodshed,  of  course.  I  do  not  sup- 
pose that  anybody  did.  What  Clithering  could  not  un- 


THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER  181 

derstand  was  that  some  people  —  without  wanting 
bloodshed  —  might  prefer  it  to  Home  Rule.  He  left 
me,  still  I  fancy  relying  on  my  well-known  moderation. 
No  man  ever  relied  on  a  more  utterly  useless  crutch. 
Moderation  has  never  been  of  the  slightest  use  any- 
where in  Ireland  and  was  certainly  a  vain  thing  in  Bel- 
fast that  day. 

I  walked  round  to  the  club  and  found  nobody  in  it 
except  Conroy.  He  alone,  among  the  leading  sup- 
porters of  the  Loyalist  movement,  had  failed  to  go  to 
church.  I  thought  I  might  try  how  he  would  regard 
the  policy  of  moderation. 

"  I  suppose,"  I  said,  "  that  you'll  have  to  give  up  this 
meeting  to-morrow." 

"  I  don't  think  so,"  said  Conroy. 

"  I've  just  been  talking  to  Sir  Samuel  dithering,"  I 
said,  "  and  he  thinks  there'll  be  bloodshed  if  you  don't." 

"  I  reckon  he's  right  there.  We're  kind  of  out  for 
that,  aren't  we  ?  " 

"  It  won't  be  so  pleasant,"  I  said,  "  when  it's  your 
blood  that's  shed.  I  don't  mean  yours  personally,  I 
mean  your  friends." 

"  The  other  side  will  do  some  of  the  bleeding,"  said 
Conroy. 

"  Still,"  I  said,  "  in  the  end  they'll  win." 

"  I  wouldn't  bet  too  heavy  on  that,"  said  Conroy. 

"  You  don't  mean  to  say  that  you  think  that  a  hand- 
ful of  north  of  Ireland  fanners  and  mechanics  can  stand 
up  against  the  British  Empire?" 

"  It's  fixed  in  my  mind,"  said  Conroy,  "  that  the 
British  lion  will  get  his  tail  twisted  a  bit  before  he's 
through  with  this  business.  I  don't  say  that  he  won't 
make  good  in  the  end.  Nobody  but  God  Almighty  can 


1 82 

tell  this  minute  whether  he  will  or  not;  but  he'll  be 
considerable  less  frisky  when  he's  finished  than  he  is 
to-day." 

"  But,"  I  said,  "  even  supposing  you  clear  the  streets 
of  the  soldiers  and  police  to-morrow  —  I  do  not  see 
how  you  can ;  but  if  you  do  the  Government  will  simply 
anchor  a  battleship  off  Carrickf  ergus  and  shell  the  whole 
town  into  a  heap  of  ruins." 

"  I'm  calculating  on  their  trying  that,"  said  Conroy. 

That  was  all  I  could  get  out  of  Conroy.  I  left  him, 
feeling  uneasily  that  his  vote  would  certainly  go  against 
Clithering's  compromise.  His  confidence  in  the  fight- 
ing powers  of  the  raw  men  whom  Bob  and  others  had 
taken  to  church  with  them  struck  me  as  absurd.  His 
cool  assumption  of  power  to  deal  with  the  British  fleet 
was  arrogance  run  mad. 

On  my  way  back  to  my  hotel  I  ran  into  a  congrega- 
tion which  had  just  got  out  of  some  church  or  other. 
In  the  first  rank  —  they  were  marching  in  very  fair 
order  —  was  Crossan.  He  saluted  me  and  stopped. 

"  I'm  thinking,"  he  said,  "  that  you  won't  have  seen 
thon." 

He  pointed  to  a  small  group  of  men  who  were 
bringing  up  the  rear  of  the  congregation's  march.  They 
were  dragging  a  heavy  object  along  with  two  large 
ropes.  I  recognized  the  leader  of  them  at  once.  He 
was  Gaboon's  foreman  friend,  McConkey.  I  was 
pleased  to  find  that  he  recognized  me. 

"  I  have  her  safe,"  he  said.  "  Would  you  like  to  take 
a  look  at  her?  " 

I  did.  She  was  a  machine  gun  of  a  kind  quite  un- 
known to  me ;  but  her  appearance  was  very  murderous. 


THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER  183 

McConkey  led  me  up  to  her.  He  stroked  her  black  side 
lovingly  and  patted  her  in  various  places. 

"  I  was  trying  her  yesterday,"  he  said,  "  down  on  the 
slob  land  under  the  Shore  Road.  Man  o'  man,  but  she 
shoots  bonny !  " 

I  had  no  doubt  of  it.  She  was  likely  to  be  accounta- 
ble for  a  good  deal  of  bloodshed  if  there  was  any 
street  fighting  next  day.  The  record  of  her  bag  would, 
I  should  think,  haunt  Sir  Samuel  Clithering  for  the  rest 
of  his  life. 

"  I've  a  matter  of  five  thousand  cartridges,"  said 
McConkey  in  a  hoarse  whisper,  "  and  there's  another 
five  thousand  ordered." 


CHAPTER  XIX 

THE  committee  met  at  three  o'clock  in  the  after- 
noon. Sir  Samuel  Clithering  was  not,  of  course, 
a  member  of  it;  but  he  lurked  about  outside  and  way- 
laid us  as  we  went  in.  He  was  in  a  condition  of  pitiful 
bewilderment.  Alice  whose  adventures  in  Wonder- 
land have  been  very  dear  to  me  since  I  first  read  them 
aloud  to  Marion,  was  once  placed  in  a  difficult  and 
awkward  position  by  the  kings,  queens  and  knaves  of 
the  pack  of  cards  with  which  she  was  playing  coming 
to  life.  This  was  sufficiently  embarrassing.  But 
Clithering  was  much  worse  off  than  Alice.  In  her 
story  all  the  cards  came  to  life,  and  though  the  unex- 
pectedness of  their  behaviour  made  things  difficult  for 
her  there  was  a  certain  consistency  about  the  whole 
business.  A  card  player  might  in  time  adjust  himself  to 
a  game  played  with  cards  which  possessed  wills  of  their 
own.  But  poor  Clithering  had  to  play  with  a  pack 
in  which  one  suit  only,  and  it  not  even  the  trump  suit, 
suddenly  insisted  that  the  game  was  a  reality.  The 
other  three  suits,  the  Liberals,  the  Conservatives,  and 
the  Irish  Nationalists  still  behaved  in  the  normal  way, 
falling  pleasantly  on  top  of  each  other,  and  winning 
or  losing  tricks  as  the  rules  of  the  game  demanded. 
The  Ulster  party  alone  —  Clubs,  we  may  call  them  — 
would  not  play  fairly.  They  jumped  out  of  the  play- 
er's hand  and  obstinately  declared  that  the  green  cloth 

[184 


THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER  185 

was  a  real  battlefield.  The  higher  court  cards  of  the 
suit  —  Lady  Moyne  for  instance,  and  Babberly  — 
Clithering  felt  himself  able  to  control.  It  was  the 
knaves  —  I  am  sure  he  looked  on  McNeice  as  a  knave 
—  the  tens,  the  sevens  and  the  humble  twos  which  be- 
haved outrageous1y. 

And  Clithering  was  not  the  only  player  who  was 
perplexed.  I  had  been  to  luncheon  with  the  Moynes. 
Babberly  was  there  of  course.  So  was  Malcolmson. 
Clithering  sat  next  but  one  to  Lady  Moyne.  Malcolm- 
son  was  between  them.  It  was  a  curious  alliance.  The 
emissary  of  the  Government,  which  had  passed  meas- 
ures which  all  good  aristocrats  disliked  intensely, 
joined  hands  for  the  moment  with  the  lady  whose  skill 
as  a  political  hostess  had  frequently  been  troublesome 
to  Clithering's  friends.  I  do  not  suppose  that  such  an 
alliance  could  possibly  last  long.  Those  whom  mis- 
fortune, according  to  the  old  proverb,  forces  into  bed 
together,  always  struggle  out  again  at  opposite  sides 
when  the  clouds  cease  to  be  threatening.  But  while 
it  lasted  the  alliance  was  firm  enough.  They  were  both 
bent  on  pressing  the  advantages  of  moderation  on  Mal- 
colmson. They  produced  very  little  effect.  Malcolm- 
son  is  impervious  to  reason.  He  kept  falling  back,  in 
replying  to  their  arguments,  on  his  original  objection 
to  Home  Rule. 

"  I  shall  never  consent,"  he  said,  "  to  be  governed 
by  a  pack  of  blackguards  in  Dublin." 

It  was  really  a  very  good  answer,  for  every  time  he 
made  it  he  drove  a  wedge  into  the  coalition  against 
him.  Lady  Moyne  was  bound  to  admit  that  all  Irish- 
men outside  Ulster  are  blackguards,  and  that  the  at- 
mosphere of  Dublin  is  poisonous.  Clithering,  on  the 


i86 

other  hand,  was  officially  committed  to  an  unqualified 
admiration  for  everything  south  of  the  Boyne.  I  do 
not  think  that  Malcolmson  appreciated  his  dialectic  ad- 
vantage. His  mind  was  running  on  big  guns  rather 
than  arguments. 

Lady  Moyne  squeezed  my  hand  as  we  parted  after 
luncheon,  and  I  think  I  am  not  exaggerating  in  saying 
that  there  were  tears  in  her  eyes.  She  succeeded  at 
all  events  in  giving  me  the  impression  that  her  future 
happiness  depended  very  largely  on  me.  I  determined, 
as  I  had  determined  several  times  before,  to  be  true  to 
the  most  charming  lady  of  my  acquaintance. 

Moyne  took  the  chair  at  our  meeting.  Next  him 
sat  Babberly.  Cahoon,  McNeice  and  Malcolmson  sat 
together  at  the  bottom  of  the  table.  I  was  given  a 
chair  on  Moyne's  other  side.  Conroy  would  not  sit  at 
the  table  at  all.  He  had  two  chairs  in  a  corner  of  the 
room.  He  sat  on  one  of  them  and  put  his  legs  on  the 
other.  He  also  smoked  a  cigar,  which  I  think  every- 
body regarded  as  bad  form.  But  nobody  liked  to  pro- 
test, because  nobody,  except  me  and  McNeice,  knew 
which  side  Conroy  was  going  to  take  in  the  contro- 
versy before  us.  Babberly,  I  feel  sure,  would  have 
objected  to  the  cigar  if  he  had  thought  that  Conroy 
favoured  extreme  defiance  of  the  Government.  Mal- 
colmson, like  many  military  men,  is  a  great  stickler  for 
etiquette.  He  would  have  snubbed  the  cigar  if  he 
thought  Conroy  was  inclined  to  moderation.  As  things 
were,  we  all  warmly  invited  Conroy  to  desert  his  pri- 
vate encampment  and  join  us  round  the  table. 

"  I  guess  I'm  here  as  an  onlooker,"  said  Conroy. 
"  You  gentlemen  can  settle  things  nicely  without  me, 
till  it  comes  to  writing  cheques.  Then  I  chip  in." 


THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER  187 

Moyne  murmured  a  compliment  about  Conroy's  ex- 
treme generosity  in  the  past,  and  Babberly  said  that 
further  calls  on  our  purses  were,  for  the  present,  un- 
necessary. Then  we  all  forgot  about  Conroy.  The 
Dean  sat  half  way  down  the  table  on  my  side.  There 
was  also  present  a  Member  of  Parliament,  a  man  who 
had  sat  by  Babberly 's  side  in  the  House  of  Commons 
all  through  the  dreary  months  of  June,  July  and  Au- 
gust, supporting  consistently  every  move  he  made  to- 
wards wrecking  the  Home  Rule  Bill.  There  ought  to 
have  been  several  others  of  the  moderate  party  at  the 
meeting.  Their  letters  of  apology  were  read  to  us. 
They  all  had  urgent  business  either  in  England  or  Scot- 
land, which  prevented  their  being  in  Belfast.  I  do  not 
think  their  absence  made  much  difference  in  the  result 
of  our  deliberations.  We  had  got  beyond  the  stage  at 
which  votes  matter  much. 

Moyne  was  pitifully  nervous.  He  stated  our  posi- 
tion very  fairly.  It  was,  he  said,  a  hateful  thing  to 
have  to  give  in  to  the  Government.  He  did  not  like 
doing  it.  On  the  other  hand  he  did  not  like  to  take 
the  responsibility  of  urging  the  people  of  Belfast  to 
commit  a  breach  of  the  peace.  Lives,  he  said,  would 
certainly  be  lost  if  we  attempted  to  hold  our  meeting 
in  the  face  of  the  force  of  armed  men  which  the  Gov- 
ernment had  collected  in  our  streets.  He  would  feel 
himself  guilty  of  something  little  short  of  murder  if  he 
did  not  advise  the  acceptance  of  the  compromise  offered 
by  Clithering.  It  was,  after  all,  a  fair,  more  than  a  fair 
compromise.  Nothing  would  be  lost  by  postponing  the 
meeting  for  a  week. 

It  was  rather  a  feeble  speech.  Nobody  offered  any 
interruption,  but  nobody  expressed  any  approval  of 


188  THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER 

what  he  said.  When  he  sat  down  Babberly  rose  at 
once. 

Now  Babberly  is  no  fool.  He  knows  that  florid  ora- 
tions are  out  of  place  at  committee  meetings.  He  did 
not  treat  us  to  any  oratory.  He  gave  us  tersely  and  forci- 
bly several  excellent  reasons  for  postponing  our  demon- 
stration. 

"  The  Government,"  he  said,  "  is  weakening.  Its 
offer  of  a  compromise  shows  that  it  is  beginning  at  last 
to  feel  the  full  force  of  the  Ulster  objection  to  Home 
Rule." 

Here  McNeice  interrupted  him. 

"  If  that's  so,"  he  said,  "  we  must  make  our  objection 
more  unmistakably  obvious  than  before." 

"  Quite  so,"  said  Babberly ;  "  but  how  ?     Is  it  — " 

"  By  fighting  them,"  said  McNeice. 

"  If  by  fighting  them,"  said  Babberly,  "  you  mean 
asking  the  unarmed  citizens  of  Belfast  to  stand  up 
against  rifles — " 

"  Unarmed  ?  "  The  word  came  from  Conroy  in  his 
corner.  Every  one  was  startled.  We  had  not  ex- 
pected Conroy  to  take  any  part  in  the  discussion. 

"  Undrilled,  undisciplined,"  said  Babberly.  "  What 
can  be  the  result  of  such  a  conflict  as  you  suggest? 
Our  people,  the  men  who  have  trusted  us,  will  be  mowed 
down.  We  shall  place  ourselves  hopelessly  in  the 
wrong.  We  shall  alienate  the  sympathies  of  our  friends 
in  England." 

A  large  crowd  had  gathered  in  the  street  outside  the 
windows  of  the  room  in  which  we  were  sitting.  I  sup- 
pose that  the  men  found  waiting  a  tiresome  business. 
By  way  of  passing  the  time  they  began  to  sing  "  O 
God,  our  help  in  ages  past." 


THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER  189 

"  It  is  of  the  utmost  importance  to  us,"  said  Bab- 
berly,  "  to  retain  the  sympathies  of  the  English  constit- 
uencies. Any  illegal  violence  on  our  part — " 

"  You  should  have  thought  of  that  before  you  told 
the  English  people  that  we  meant  to  fight,"  said  Mc- 
Neice. 

"  If  you  follow  my  advice  to-day,"  said  Babberly, 
"  there  will  be  no  necessity  for  fighting." 

The  hymn  outside  gathered  volume.  It  seemed  to  me 
that  thousands  of  voices  were  joining  in  the  singing  of 
it.  It  became  exceedingly  difficult  to  hear  what  Bab- 
berly was  saying.  I  leaned  forward  and  caught  his 
next  few  sentences. 

"  By  keeping  within  the  limits  of  constitutional  ac- 
tion at  this  crisis  we  shall  demonstrate  that  we  are,  what 
we  have  always  boasted  ourselves,  the  party  of  law 
and  order.  We  shall  win  a  bloodless  victory.  We 
shall  convince  the  Government  that  we  possess  self-con- 
trol as  well  as  determination." 

Then  the  noise  of  the  singing  outside  became  so 
great  that  it  was  impossible  to  hear  Babberly  at  all. 
McNeice  tilted  his  chair  back  and  began  to  hum  the 
tune.  Malcolmson  beat  time  to  the  singing  with  his 
forefingers.  Their  action  seemed  to  me  to  be  inten- 
tionally insulting  to  Babberly.  The  crowd  outside 
reached  the  end  of  a  verse  and  there  was  a  pause. 

"  Damn  that  hymn !  "  said  Babberly. 

This  roused  the  Dean.  It  would  have  roused  any 
dean  with  a  particle  of  spirit  in  him.  After  all,  a 
high  ecclesiastic  cannot  sit  still  and  listen  to  profane 
condemnation  of  one  of  the  Psalms  of  David,  even  if 
it  has  undergone  versification  at  the  hands  of  Dr. 
Watts.  The  conduct  of  McNeice  and  Malcolmson  was 


190          THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER 

offensive  and  provocative.  The  noise  made  by  the 
crowd  was  maddening.  There  is  every  excuse  for  Bab- 
berly's  sudden  loss  of  temper.  But  the  Dean's  anger 
was  more  than  excusable.  It  was  justified.  He 
sprang  to  his  feet,  and  I  knew  at  once  that  he  was  very 
angry  indeed.  I  could  see  a  broad  white  rim  all  round 
the  irises  of  his  eyes,  and  a  pulse  in  his  temples  was 
throbbing  visibly.  I  recognized  the  symptoms.  I  had 
seen  them  once  before  at  a  vestry  meeting  when  some 
ill-conditioned  parishioner  said  that  the  Dean's  curate 
was  converting  to  his  own  uses  the  profits  of  the  parish 
magazine.  The  periodical,  as  appeared  later  on,  was 
actually  run  at  a  loss,  and  the  curate  had  been  seven- 
and-ninepence  out  of  pocket  the  previous  year. 

The  Dean  said  something  to  Babberly,  but  the  crowd 
had  begun  the  fourth  verse  of  the  hymn,  and  we  could 
not  hear  what  he  said.  I  got  up  and  shut  both  win- 
dows. The  atmosphere  of  our  committee-room  was 
hot,  and  likely  to  become  hotter;  but  it  is  better  to  do 
business  in  a  Turkish  bath  than  not  to  do  it  at  all. 
There  was  plainly  no  use  our  talking  to  each  other  un- 
less we  were  able  to  hear.  My  action  gave  Babberly 
time  to  regain  his  temper. 

"  I  apologize,"  he  said.  "  I  apologize  to  all  of  you, 
and  especially  to  you,  Mr.  Dean,  for  an  intemperate  and 
uncalled-for  exclamation." 

The  Dean  sat  down.  The  pulse  in  his  forehead  was 
still  throbbing,  but  the  irises  of  his  eyes  ceased  to  look 
like  bulls'  eyes  in  the  middle  of  targets. 

"  I  have  been  a  consistent  supporter  of  the  Union," 
said  Babberly,  "  for  twenty  years.  In  season  and  out  of 
season  I  have  upheld  the  cause  we  have  at  heart  on 
English  platforms  and  in  the  House  of  Commons.  I 


THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER  191 

know  better  than  you  do,  gentlemen,  what  the  temper 
of  the  English  people  is.  I  know  that  we  shall  sacri- 
fice their  friendship  and  alienate  their  sympathy  if  we 
resort  to  the  argument  of  lawlessness  and  violence." 

"  It's  the  only  argument  they  ever  listen  to,"  said 
McNeice.  "  Look  at  the  Nationalists.  What  argu- 
ments did  they  use  ?  " 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  Babberly,  "  are  you  going  to  ask 
Ulstermen  to  fire  on  the  King's  troops?" 

"  I  reckon,"  said  Conroy,  "  that  we  mean  to  use  our 
guns  now  we've  got  them." 

Babberly  made  a  curious  gesture  with  his  hands. 
He  flung  them  out  from  him  with  the  palms  upwards 
and  then  sat  down.  McNeice  rose  next. 

"  For  the  last  two  years,"  he  said,  "  we've  been  boast- 
ing that  we  meant  to  resist  Home  Rule  with  force  if 
necessary.  That's  so,  isn't  it  ?  " 

Malcolmson  growled  an  assent. 

"  English  politicians  and  Irish  rebels  said  we  were 
bluffing.  Our  own  people  —  the  men  outside  there  in 
the  street  —  thought  we  were  in  earnest.  The  English 
went  on  with  their  Bill.  Our  people  drilled  and  got 
rifles.  Which  of  the  two  was  right  about  us?  Were 
we  bluffing  or  were  we  in  earnest?  We've  got  to  an- 
swer that  question  to-morrow,  and  we'll  never  get  an- 
other chance.  If  we  don't  fight  now,  we'll  never  fight, 
for  there  won't  be  a  man  left  in  Ulster  that  will  believe 
in  us  again.  I  don't  know  that  there's  any  more  to  be 
said.  I  propose  that  Lord  Moyne  puts  the  question  to 
the  meeting  and  takes  a  vote." 

Then  Cahoon  rose  to  his  feet. 

"  Before  you  do  that,  my  lord,"  he  said,  "  I'd  like  to 
say  a  word.  I'm  a  business  man.  I've  as  much  at 


192  THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER 

stake  as  any  one  in  this  room.  My  fortune,  gentlemen, 
is  in  bricks  and  mortar,  in  machinery  and  plant  not  ten 
miles  from  this  city.  I've  thought  this  matter  out,  and 
I  came  to  a  conclusion  years  ago.  Home  Rule  won't 
do  for  Belfast,  and  Belfast  isn't  going  to  have  it.  If  I 
saw  any  way  of  stopping  it  but  the  one  I'd  take  it. 
There  are  thousands,  yes,  gentlemen,  thousands  of  men, 
women,  and  children  depending  on  my  business  for 
their  living.  Home  Rule  means  ruining  it  and  starving 
them.  I  don't  like  fighting,  but,  by  God,  I'll  fight  before 
I  submit  to  Home  Rule." 

Lord  Moyne  looked  slowly  round  the  room.  His 
face  was  quite  pale.  It  seemed  to  me  that  his  eyes  had 
grown  larger.  They  had  a  look  of  terror  in  them. 
His  hands  trembled  among  the  papers  in  front  of  him. 
He  saw  at  once  what  the  result  of  a  vote  would  be. 
He  looked  at  me.  I  shook  my  head.  It  was  quite  plain 
that  nothing  I  could  say  would  influence  the  meeting  in 
the  least. 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  Moyne,  "  are  we  to  attempt  to 
hold  our  meeting  to-morrow?  Those  who  are  in  fa- 
vour of  doing  so  say  '  Aye.'  " 

Cahoon,  McNeice,  Malcolmson,  the  Dean  and  Conroy 
voted  "  aye." 

"  The  *  ayes '  have  it,"  said  Moyne. 

"  Before  we  part,"  said  Babberly,  "  I  wish  to  say  that 
I  leave  Belfast  to-night — " 

Malcolmson  muttered  something.  Babberly  held  up 
his  hand. 

"  No,"  he  said.  "  You  are  wrong.  I'm  not  afraid. 
I'm  not  taking  care  of  my  own  skin.  But  I  have  lived 
a  loyal  man  and  I  mean  to  die  a  loyal  man.  I  decline 
to  take  part  in  the  rebellion." 


THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER  193 

I  have  heard  Babberly  speak  on  various  occasions  and 
admired  his  eloquence.  This  time  I  recognized  his  sin- 
cerity. He  was  speaking  the  truth. 

"  I  shall  go  back  to  England,"  he  said,  "  and,  of  this 
you  may  rest  assured,  that  I  shall  do  what  can  be  done 
in  Parliament  and  elsewhere  to  save  you  and  the  men 
whom  I  must  call  your  victims  from  the  consequences 
of  to-day's  madness  and  to-morrow's  crime." 

He  left  the  room.  The  five  men  who  had  voted 
"  Aye  "  were  gathered  in  a  knot  talking  eagerly.  I  took 
Moyne's  arm  and  we  went  out  together. 

"  Her  ladyship  must  be  got  away,"  he  said.  "  And 
your  daughter,  Kilmore.  She's  here,  isn't  she?  This 
town  will  be  no  place  for  women  to-morrow.  Luckily 
I  have  the  car.  You'll  take  them,  won't  you?  Castle 
Affey  will  be  the  best  place  for  the  present." 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  yourself?  "  I  asked. 

We  passed  through  the  door  and  down  the  flight  of 
steps  to  the  street.  The  crowd  outside  caught  sight  of 
us  at  once.  Some  one  shouted  aloud. 

"  More  traitors  !  " 

The  news  of  the  result  of  the  meeting  and  the  part 
we  took  in  it  had  somehow  reached  the  people  already. 
An  angry  roar  went  up  from  the  crowd.  Those  who 
were  nearest  to  us  cursed  us.  A  police-officer  with 
eight  men  forced  a  way  through  the  crowd.  At  a  word 
from  their  officer  the  men  drew  their  batons  and  stood 
in  front  of  us. 

"  I  think,  my  lord,"  said  the  officer  to  Moyne,  "  that 
you'd  better  go  back.  We  had  the  greatest  difficulty  in 
getting  Mr.  Babberly  through,  and  the  crowd  is  angrier 
now." 

"  I'm  going  on,"  said  Moyne. 


194          THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER 

"  I  cannot  be  responsible,"  said  the  officer.  "  I 
haven't  enough  men  to  control  this  crowd.  If  you  go 
on—" 

Moyne  pushed  his  way  through  the  cordon  of  police. 
I  followed  him.  At  first  the  people  drew  back  a  little 
and  let  us  pass  into  the  middle  of  the  crowd.  Then  one 
man  after  another  began  to  hustle  us.  Moyne  linked 
his  arm  in  mine  and  helped  me  along.  A  man  struck 
him  in  the  face  with  the  flat  of  his  hand.  It  was  a 
sharp  slap  rather  than  an  actual  blow.  Moyne  flushed 
deeply,  but  he  neither  spoke  nor  struck  back.  Then 
suddenly  the  people  seemed  to  forget  all  about  us.  A 
wild  cheer  burst  from  them.  Hats  were  flung  into  the 
air.  Sticks  were  waved.  Some  one  began  firing  shots 
from  a  revolver  in  rapid  succession.  It  was  a  fusillade 
of  joy,  a  kind  of  salute  to  McNeice  who  appeared  at  the 
window  of  the  Committee  room.  Moyne  and  I  pushed 
our  way  on.  When  we  were  clear  of  the  crowd  Moyne 
spoke  to  me  again. 

"You'd  better  take  them  at  once,"  he  said.  "It's 
impossible  to  know  what'll  happen  here  to-night." 

"But  you?"  I  said. 

"  Oh,  I  shall  stay." 

"  Don't  be  a  fool,  Moyne,"  I  said.  "  You're  the  one 
of  all  others  who  ought  not  to  stay.  Don't  you  see  that 
whatever  way  things  go  you're  in  for  it?  The  mob 
thinks  you're  a  traitor.  I  wouldn't  trust  those  fellows 
weVe  just  left  not  to  kill  you.  And  when  the  soldiers 
have  shot  them  down  and  the  subsequent  investigation 
begins,  the  Government  is  bound  to  fix  on  you  as  a 
ringleader.  There'll  be  panic  to-morrow  and  savage 
vindictiveness  the  next  day.  McNeice  and  Malcolmson 
will  frighten  the  Government  and  the  Government  will 


THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER  195 

have  you  hanged  or  beheaded  afterwards  for  causing 
the  trouble.  The  English  people  will  clamour  for  a 
victim,  and  you're  exactly  the  sort  of  victim  they'll  like. 
Your  one  chance  is  to  get  out  of  this.  Go  to  Castle 
Affey  to-night,  and  telegraph  to  The  Times  to-morrow 
to  say  that  you  dissociate  yourself  — " 

Moyne  stopped  me. 

"  Look  here,  Kilmore,"  he  said.  "  I've  heard  all  you 
have  to  say,  and  I  agree  with  it,  more  or  less.  I  don't 
suppose  I'll  be  either  murdered  by  the  mob  or  shot  by 
the  military,  but  — " 

"  You  will,"  I  said,  "  if  you  stay  here." 

"  Even  if  I  am,"  he  said,  "  I'll  have  to  stay." 

"  In  the  name  of  goodness,  why  ?  " 

"  You  know  the  way  we've  been  talking  for  the  last 
two  years  —  our  side,  I  mean." 

I  knew  the  way  Babberly  had  been  talking.  I  knew 
the  way  Lady  Moyne  had  goaded  him  and  others  to 
talk,  but  poor  Moyne  hardly  ever  talked  at  all.  All  he 
ever  wanted  was  to  be  left  alone. 

"  Well,  I  can't  exactly  go  back  on  them  now  when 
they're  doing  what  we  said  they  ought  to  do.  I've  got 
to  see  the  thing  through.  After  all  it's  my  fault  that 
those  poor  fellows  are  in  this  horrible  mess." 

He  glanced  back  as  he  spoke.  He  was  thinking  of 
the  angry  crowd  we  had  left  behind  us. 

"  So  you'll  take  care  of  the  ladies,"  he  said.  "  Run 
them  down  to  Castle  Affey  and  make  yourself  as  com- 
fortable as  you  can.  They  won't  be  expecting  you,  but 
they'll  manage  some  sort  of  dinner." 

"  I'm  not  going,"  I  said.  "  I'm  staying  on  in  Bel- 
fast." 

"  But  why  should  you  ?    You've  no  responsibility. 


196  THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER 

You've  never  taken  any  part  in  our —  It's  very  good 
of  you  to  think  of  staying.  It  really  is.  And  I  appre- 
ciate the  spirit  in  which  —  But  — " 

"  For  goodness'  sake,  Moyne,"  I  said,  "  don't  give 
me  credit  for  any  kind  of  heroism.  That  noblesse 
oblige  attitude  of  yours  doesn't  suit  me  a  bit.  It  isn't  in 
my  line." 

"  But  hang  it  all,  Kilmore,  you  can't  be  staying  here 
for  the  fun  of  it." 

"  I've  often  told  you,"  I  said,  "  that  I'm  writing  a 
history  of  the  Irish  Rebellions.  I  naturally  want  to  see 
one,  and  there  isn't  likely  to  be  another  in  my  time. 
That's  my  only  reason  for  staying  in  Belfast." 

We  found  Lady  Moyne  waiting  for  us  when  we 
reached  the  hotel.  She  was  wearing  a  long  cloak,  and 
had  a  motor-veil  tied  over  her  head.  She  was  evidently 
prepared  to  start  at  once. 

"  I've  ordered  the  car,"  she  said.  "  It  ought  to  be 
round  now.  Marion's  coming  with  me,  Lord  Kilmore. 
I  think  she'd  be  better  out  of  Belfast  for  the  next  few 
days." 

The  news  of  the  decision  of  our  committee  seemed 
to  have  spread  with  quite  unexampled  rapidity.  We 
came  straight  from  the  meeting,  and  we  found  that  Lady 
Moyne  had  already  recognized  the  necessity  for  flight. 

"  I'm  glad  you're  going,"  said  Moyne,  "  and  I'm  glad 
you're  taking  Marion  with  you.  But  how  did  you 
know?  Who  told  you  what — ?  " 

"  That  young  man  who's  Mr.  Conroy's  secretary," 
said  Lady  Moyne.  "  I  forget  his  name." 

"  Bob  Power,"  I  said. 

"  He  came  in  to  see  Marion,  and  he  told  us." 

Bob  must  have  known  beforehand  what  the  commit- 


THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER  197 

tee's  decision  was  to  be.  I  realized  that  Conroy  must 
have  had  the  whole  plan  cut  and  dried;  that  the  meet- 
ing at  which  Moyne  presided  was  simply  a  farce.  How- 
ever, there  was  nothing  to  be  gained  by  discussing 
that. 

"  I  think,"  I  said,  "  that  Moyne  ought  to  go  with 
you.  I  don't  think  Belfast  is  particularly  safe  for  him 
just  now  ;  and  — " 

"  Moyne  must  stay,  of  course,"  said  Lady  Moyne. 

"There'll  be  trouble  afterwards,"  I  said.  "He 
ought  not  to  be  mixed  up  in  it.  If  he  clears  out  at 
once  — " 

Lady  Moyne  looked  at  me  with  an  expression  of  won- 
der on  her  face.  Her  eyes  opened  very  wide. 

"  Surely,"  she  said,  "  you  don't  expect  him  to  run 
away." 

"  Of  course  not,"  said  Moyne;  "  of  course  not.  And 
there's  really  no  risk.  I'll  — " 

"  That's  not  the  kind  of  people  we  are,"  said  Lady 
Moyne. 

"  I'll  join  you  at  Castle  Affey  in  a  couple  of  days," 
said  Moyne. 

"  Castle  Affey,"  said  Lady  Moyne.  "  I'm  not  going 
to  Castle  Affey.  I'm  going  to  London." 

"  What  for?"  I  said.  "  And  how  are  you  going  to 
get  there?  There  are  no  steamers  on  Sunday  night." 

"  I'm  taking  possession  of  Mr.  Conroy's  yacht,"  said 
Lady  Moyne.  "  She's  lying  off  Bangor,  and  that  young 
man,  Mr.  Power,  said  we  could  have  her.  We'll  get 
across  to  Stranraer  this  evening,  and  I'll  have  a  special 
train  and  be  in  London  to-morrow  morning." 

"London!"  said  Moyne.  "But  why  London  ? 
Surely  Castle  Affey  — " 


198  THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER 

"  I  must  see  the  Prime  Minister  early  tomorrow. 
He  must  be  persuaded  —  he  must  be  forced  if  neces- 
sary —  to  telegraph  orders  to  Belfast.  Don't  you  real- 
ize ?  I  don't  blame  you,  I  don't  blame  either  of  you  for 
the  failure  of  your  meeting  this  afternoon.  I'm  sure 
you  did  your  best.  But  —  but  what  will  happen  here 
to-morrow  ?  We  can't  leave  the  people  to  be  shot  down 
like  dogs.  After  all,  they're  our  people." 

"  But  what  can  you  do?  "  said  Moyne.  "  The  Prime 
Minister  won't  see  you." 

"  If  necessary  I  shall  force  him,"  said  Lady  Moyne. 
"  He  shall  see  me." 

Lady  Moyne  is,  as  I  have  always  said,  a  remarkable 
woman.  Many  members  of  her  sex  have  been  trying 
for  years  to  force  their  way  into  the  presence  of  the 
Prime  Minister.  They  have  hitherto  failed. 

"  I  am  afraid,"  I  said,  "  that  Marion  won't  be  much 
use  to  you  if  you're  going  to  come  into  collision  with 
the  police  in  any  way." 

Lady  Moyne  smiled. 

"  I  hope  I  shan't  be  reduced  to  those  methods,"  she 
said ;  "  but  if  I  am  I  shall  leave  Marion  at  home." 

I  had  not  the  slightest  doubt  that  Lady  Moyne  would 
succeed  in  seeing  the  Prime  Minister.  He  has  proba- 
bly sense  enough  to  know  that  though  he  may  resist 
other  women  successfully,  he  cannot  possibly  make 
head  against  her. 

"If  there  is  no  rioting  here  to-night,"  said  Lady 
Moyne,  "  I  shall  be  in  time.  That  young  man,  Mr. 
Power,  seemed  to  think  that  everything  would  be  quiet 
until  to-morrow.  I  hope  he's  right." 

"  He's  sure  to  be,"  I  said.  "  Conroy  is  running  the 
revolution  and  settles  exactly  what  is  to  happen." 


THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER  199 

"  He  was  very  confident,"  said  Lady  Moyne.  "  Ah ! 
here's  Marion.  Now  we  can  start.  Good-bye,  Lord 
Kilmore.  Do  your  best  here.  I'll  make  the  best  ar- 
rangement I  can  with  the  Prime  Minister." 


CHAPTER  XX 

MOYNE  and  I  dined  together  in  the  hotel.  We 
should  have  got  a  better  dinner  at  the  club,  and 
I  wanted  to  go  there.  But  Moyne  was  afraid  of  the 
other  men's  talk.  It  was  likely  that  there  would  be 
some  very  eager  talk  at  the  club;  and  Moyne,  whose 
name  still  figured  on  placards  as  chairman  of  next  day's 
meeting  would  have  been  a  butt  for  every  kind  of  anx- 
ious inquiry. 

We  did  not  altogether  escape  talk  by  staying  in  the 
hotel. 

Just  as  we  were  sitting  down  to  dinner  I  was  told 
that  Bob  Power  wished  to  see  me.  Moyne  wanted  me 
to  send  him  away ;  but  I  could  not  well  refuse  an  inter- 
view to  the  man  who  was  to  be  my  son-in-law.  I  gave 
that  as  my  excuse  to  Moyne.  In  reality  I  was  filled 
with  curiosity,  and  wanted  to  hear  what  Bob  would 
say  to  us.  I  told  the  waiter  to  show  him  in.  He  car- 
ried no  visible  weapon  of  any  kind,  but  he  was  wearing 
a  light  blue  scarf  round  his  left  arm.  I  suppose  I 
stared  at  it. 

"  Our  nearest  approach  to  a  uniform,"  he  said. 
(C  Something  of  the  sort  was  necessary." 

"  But  why  light  blue?  "  I  asked. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know.  It's  a  good  colour,  easily  seen. 
The  men  are  to  wear  orange,  of  course.  I'm  an 
officer." 

"  Captain  or  Colonel  or  Knight  at  Arms  ? "  I  asked, 

5200 


THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER  201 

"  We  haven't  bothered  about  titles,"  said  Bob,  who 
did  not  seem  to  recognize  the  question.  "  We  haven't 
had  time  to  settle  details  of  any  sort.  In  fact  I  haven't 
much  time  now.  I  just  dropped  in  to  tell  you  that  you 
needn't  be  nervous  about  to-night.  We  have  our  men 
well  under  control,  and  the  police  ought  to  be  able  to 
deal  with  the  rabble.  If  they  can't  —  if  there's  any 
sign  of  rioting  —  we  step  in  and  stop  it  at  once." 

He  pulled  a  revolver  from  his  coat  pocket  as  he 
spoke.  It  gave  us  the  necessary  information  about  the 
way  in  which  rioting  was  to  be  stopped. 

"  I  shall  be  on  patrol  all  night,"  he  said.  "  My 
orders  — " 

"  By  the  way,"  I  said,  "  excuse  my  asking  a  stupid 
sort  of  question.  But  who  gives  you  your  orders? 
Who  is  Commander-in-Chief  ?  " 

"  Conroy,  of  course.  Didn't  you  know  ?  He  organ- 
ized the  whole  thing.  Wonderful  head  Conroy  has. 
I  don't  wonder  he  became  a  millionaire.  He  has  his 
men  under  perfect  control.  They  may  not  look 
starchy  when  you  see  them  in  the  streets,  but  they'll 
do  what  they're  told.  I  thought  you  and  Lord  Moyne 
would  be  glad  to  know,  so  I  dropped  in  to  tell  you.  I 
must  be  off  now." 

He  got  as  far  as  the  door  and  then  turned. 

"  Marion  and  Lady  Moyne  got  away  all  right,"  he 
said.  "  I  saw  them  off." 

Then  he  left  us. 

"  That's  good  news  as  far  as  it  goes,"  I  said. 

"  I'm  not  sure,"  said  Moyne.  "  I'm  not  at  all  sure. 
If  there  had  been  a  riot  to-night,  the  ordinary  sort  of 
riot  —  but  I  don't  know.  It's  very  hard  to  know  what 
to  hope  for." 


202  THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER 

If  there  had  been  an  ordinary  riot  that  night,  and 
if  it  had  been  sternly  and  promptly  suppressed,  there 
would  perhaps  have  been  no  battle  next  day.  If,  on 
the  other  hand,  Conroy  and  Bob  and  the  others  could 
keep  their  men  under  control,  if  they  could  secure  the 
peace  of  the  city  for  the  night,  then  the  fighting  next 
day  was  likely  to  be  serious.  As  Moyne  said,  it  was 
very  hard  to  know  what  to  hope  for. 

The  waiter  brought  in  our  fish,  and  with  it  a  message 
from  Sir  Samuel  Clithering.  He  wanted  to  see  Moyne. 
I  had  had  enough  of  Clithering  for  one  day,  so  I  made 
no  objection  when  Moyne  flatly  refused  to  see  him. 

I  suppose  a  man  cannot  be  a  successful  manufacturer 
of  hosiery  in  the  English  midlands  without  possessing 
the  quality  of  persistence.  Clithering  had  it.  He  sent 
another  message  to  say  that  his  business  was  very  im- 
portant. Moyne  said  that  he  and  his  business  might 
go  to  hell  together.  I  hope  the  waiter  translated  this 
message  into  parliamentary  language.  Clithering  is  a 
Nonconformist,  and  therefore  a  man  of  tender  con- 
science. I  should  not  like  him  to  be  shocked. 

The  hotel  cook  was  doing  his  best  for  us.  He  sent 
us  up  an  entree.  With  it  came  a  note  from  Clithering. 

"  I'm  sending  a  telegram  to  the  Prime  Minister  de- 
scribing the  condition  of  affairs  here.  May  I  say  that 
you  have  refused  to  preside  at  the  meeting  to-mor- 
row?" 

Moyne  showed  me  the  note.  Then  he  scribbled  an 
answer  on  the  back  of  it. 

"  You  may  tell  the  Prime  Minister  that  if  a  meeting 
is  held  I  shall  preside.  The  announcements  made  in 
the  papers  and  posters  stand  good." 

"  Do  you  think  that's  wise  ?  "  I  asked. 


THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER  203 

"  I  think  it's  right,"  said  Moyne. 

It  is  a  great  pity  that  right  things  very  seldom  are 
wise.  I  have  hardly  ever  met  anything  which  could 
possibly  be  called  prudent  which  was  not  also  either 
mean  or  actually  wrong. 

Our  next  interruption  was  due  to  a  newspaper  re- 
porter. He  represented  several  papers,  among  others 
one  in  New  York.  He  had  the  names  of  all  of  them 
printed  on  his  card,  but  they  did  not  impress  Moyne. 
Our  waiter,  who  was  beginning  to  swell  with  a  sense 
of  his  own  importance,  drove  off  that  newspaper  re- 
porter. Three  others,  all  of  them  representing  papers 
of  high  standing,  sent  in  their  cards  in  quick  succession. 
Moyne  laid  a  sovereign  on  the  table  and  told  the  waiter 
that  he  could  have  it  as  a  tip  on  condition  that  no  one 
got  into  the  room  while  we  were  at  dinner. 

The  waiter  got  the  sovereign  in  the  end ;  but  he  did 
not  deserve  it.  While  we  were  drinking  our  coffee  a 
young  man  overwhelmed  our  waiter  and  forced  his  way 
into  the  room.  There  were  two  doors  in  our  room, 
which  is  one  of  what  is  called  a  suite.  As  the  young 
man  entered  by  one,  Moyne,  leaving  his  coffee  and  his 
sovereign  behind  him,  left  by  the  other.  He  shut  it 
with  a  slam  and  locked  it. 

"  Lord  Moyne,  I  presume  ? "  said  the  young  man. 

"  Lord  Moyne,"  I  said,  "  has  just  left." 

"  May  I  ask,"  he  said,  "  if  I  have  the  honour  of 
addressing  Mr.  McNeice  ?  " 

I  explained  that  I  was  not  McNeice.  Then,  in  order 
to  get  him  to  go  away,  if  possible,  I  added  that  I  was 
not  Malcolmson,  or  Cahoon,  or  Conroy,  or  the  Dean. 

"  If  you'll  pardon  my  curiosity,"  he  said,  "  I  should 
like  to  ask—" 


204  THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER 

I  saw  that  I  should  be  obliged  to  tell  him  who  I  was 
in  the  end.  I  told  him  at  once,  adding  that  I  was  a 
person  of  no  importance  whatever,  and  that  I  had  no 
views  of  any  kind  on  what  he  would  no  doubt  want 
to  call  "  the  situation." 

"  May  I  ask  you  one  question  ?  "  he  said.  "  Is  Lord 
Moyne  going  to  take  the  chair  to-morrow  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  I  said,  "  he  is.  But  if  you're  going  to  print 
what  I  say  in  any  paper  I  won't  speak  another  word." 

"  As  a  matter  of  fact,"  he  said,  "  the  wires  are  blocked. 
There's  a  man  in  the  post  office  writing  as  hard  as  he 
can  and  handing  one  sheet  after  another  across  the 
counter  as  quick  as  he  can  write  them.  Nobody  else 
can  send  anything." 

"  dithering,  I  expect." 

"  Very  likely.  Seems  to  fancy  himself  a  bit,  who- 
ever he  is.  Nobody  else  can  get  a  message  through." 

He  seemed  an  agreeable  young  man.  Moyne  had 
probably  gone  to  bed  and  I  did  not  want  to  spend  a 
lonely  evening. 

"  Have  a  glass  of  claret,"  I  said. 

He  sat  down  and  poured  himself  off  half  a  tumbler- 
full.  Then  it  struck  him  that  he  owed  me  some  return 
for  my  hospitality. 

"  My  name,"  he  said,  "  is  Bland.  I  was  with  Rob- 
erts' column  in  the  Orange  Free  State." 

"  Ah !  "  I  said.     "  A  war  correspondent." 

"I  did  the  Greek  War,  too,"  he  said.  "A  poor 
affair,  very.  Looks  to  me  as  if  you  were  going  to  do 
better  here.  But  it's  a  curious  situation." 

"  Very,"  I  said,  "  and  most  unpleasant." 

"  From  my  point  of  view,"  said  Bland,  "  it's  most 
interesting.  The  usual  thing  is  for  one  army  to  clear 


THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER  205 

out  of  a  town  before  the  other  comes  in  or  else  to  sur- 
render after  a  regular  siege.  But  here — " 

"  I'm  afraid,"  I  said,  "  that  our  proceedings  are 
frightfully  irregular." 

"  None  the  worse  for  that,"  said  Bland  kindly. 
"  But  they  are  a  bit  peculiar.  I've  read  up  quite  a  lot 
of  military  history  and  I  don't  recollect  a  single  case  in 
which  two  hostile  armies  patrolled  the  streets  of  the 
same  city  without  firing  a  shot  at  one  another.  By  the 
way,  have  you  been  out  ?  " 

"  Not  since  this  afternoon,"  I  said. 

"  It  would  be  quite  worth  your  while  to  take  a  stroll 
round,"  said  Bland.  "  There's  not  the  slightest  risk 
and  you  may  never  have  a  chance  of  seeing  anything 
like  it  again." 

I  quite  agreed  with  Bland.  The  odds  are,  I  suppose, 
thousands  to  one  against  my  ever  again  seeing  two  hos- 
tile armies  walking  up  and  down  opposite  sides  of  the 
street.  I  got  my  hat  and  we  went  out  together. 

We  were  almost  immediately  stopped  by  a  body  of 
lancers.  Their  leader  asked  us  who  we  were  and 
where  we  were  going. 

"  Press  correspondents,"  said  Bland,  "  on  our  way 
to  the  telegraph  office." 

This  impressed  the  officer.  He  allowed  us  to  go  on 
without  ordering  his  men  to  impale  us.  I  was  glad  of 
this.  I  am  not  particularly  afraid  of  being  killed,  but 
I  would  rather  meet  my  end  by  a  sword  cut  or  a  bullet 
than  by  a  lance.  I  should  feel  like  a  wild  pig  if  a 
lancer  speared  me.  No  one  could  die  with  dignity  and 
self-respect  if  he  felt  like  a  wild  pig  while  he  was  pass- 
ing away. 

"  In  ordinary  wars,"  said  Bland,  "  the  best  thing  to 


206  THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER 

say  is  that  you  are  a  doctor  attached  to  the  Ambulance 
Corps.  But  that's  no  use  here.  These  fellows  don't 
want  doctors ! " 

Then  we  met  a  party  of  volunteers.  They  stopped 
us  too,  and  challenged  us  very  sternly.  Bland  gave  his 
answer.  This  time  it  did  not  prove  wholly  satisfactory, 

"  Protestant  or  Papist  ?  "  said  the  officer  in  command. 

"  Neither,"  said  Bland,  "  I'm  a  high  caste  Brahmin." 

Fortunately  I  recognized  the  officer's  voice.  It  was 
Crossan  who  commanded  this  particular  regiment.  It 
never  was  safe,  even  in  the  quietest  times,  to  be  flip- 
pant with  Crossan.  On  a  night  like  that  and  under  the 
existing  circumstances,  Bland  might  very  well  have 
been  knocked  on  the  head  for  his  joke  if  I  had  not  come 
to  his  rescue. 

"  Crossan,"  I  said,  "  don't  make  a  fuss.  Mr.  Bland 
and  I  are  simply  taking  a  walk  round  the  streets." 

"  If  he's  a  Papist,"  said  Crossan,  "  he'll  have  to  go 
home  to  his  bed.  Them's  my  orders.  We  don't  want 
rioting  in  the  streets  to-night." 

I  turned  to  Bland. 

"  What  is  your  religion  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Haven't  any,"  he  said.  "  I  haven't  believed  any 
doctrine  taught  by  any  Church  since  I  was  six  years 
old.  Will  that  satisfy  you  ?  " 

"  I  was  afeard,"  said  Crossan,  "  that  you  might  be  a 
Papist.  You  can  go  on." 

This  shows,  I  think,  that  the  charges  of  bigotry  and 
intolerance  brought  against  our  Northern  Protestants 
are  quite  unfounded.  Crossan  had  no  wish  to  perse- 
cute even  a  professed  atheist. 

We  did  not  go  very  far  though  we  were  out  for 
nearly  two  hours.  The  streets  were  filled  with  armed 


THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER          207 

men  and  everybody  we  met  challenged  us.  The~police- 
were  the  hardest  to  get  rid  of.  They  were  no  doubt 
soured  by  the  treatment  they  received  in  Belfast.  Ac- 
customed to  be  regarded  with  awe  by  rural  malefactors 
and  denounced  in  flaming  periods,  of  a  kind  highly 
gratifying  to  their  self-importance,  by  political  leaders, 
they  could  not  understand  a  people  who  did  not  men- 
tion them  in  speeches  but  threatened  their  lives  with 
paving  stones.  This  had  been  their  previous  experi- 
ence of  Belfast  and  they  were  naturally  suspicious  of 
any  stray  wayfarers  whom  they  met.  They  were  not 
impressed  when  Bland  said  he  was  a  newspaper  re- 
porter. They  did  not  seem  to  care  whether  he  believed 
or  disbelieved  the  Apostles'  Creed.  One  party  of  them 
actually  arrested  us  and  only  a  ready  lie  of  Bland's 
saved  us  from  spending  an  uncomfortable  night.  He 
said,  to  my  absolute  amazement,  that  we  were  officials 
of  an  exalted  kind,  sent  down  by  the  Local  Govern- 
ment Board  to  hold  a  sworn  inquiry  into  the  condition 
of  Belfast.  This  struck  me  at  the  time  as  an  outrage- 
ously silly  story,  but  it  was  really  a  rather  good  one  to 
tell.  The  Irish  police  are  accustomed  to  sworn  in- 
quiries as  one  of  the  last  resorts  of  harassed  Govern- 
ments. It  seemed  to  the  sergeant  quite  natural  that 
somebody  should  be  in  Belfast  to  hold  one. 

We  came  across  McConkey  with  his  machine  gun  at 
a  street  corner.  He  had  got  a  new  crew  to  pull  it 
along.  I  suppose  the  first  men  were  utterly  exhausted. 
But  McConkey  himself  was  quite  fresh.  Enthusiasm 
for  the  weapon  on  which  he  had  spent  the  savings  of 
a  lifetime  kept  him  from  fatigue. 

The  experience  was  immensely  interesting;  but  I  be- 
gan to  get  tired  after  a  time.  The  necessity  for  ex- 


208          THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER 

plaining  what  we  were  —  or  rather  what  we  were  not 
—  at  the  end  of  every  fifty  yards,  began  to  make  me 
nervous.  Eland's  spirits  kept  up,  but  Bland  is  a  war 
correspondent  and  accustomed  to  being  harried  by  mil- 
itary authorities.  I  am  not.  It  was  a  comfort  to  me 
when  we  ran  into  Bob  Power's  regiment  outside  the 
Ulster  Hall. 

"  Bob,"  I  said,  "  I  want  to  get  back  to  my  hotel.  I 
wish  you'd  see  me  safe,  chaperone  me,  convoy  me,  or 
whatever  you  call  the  thing  I  want  you  to  do." 

Bland  tugged  at  my  sleeve. 

"  Get  him  to  take  me  to  the  post-office,"  he  said. 
"  I'll  have  another  go  at  getting  a  telegram  through." 

"  Bob,"  I  said,  "  this  is  my  friend  Mr.  Bland.  He's 
a  war  correspondent  and  he  wants  to  get  to  the  post- 
office." 

My  return  to  the  hotel  was  simple  enough.  The 
police  kept  out  of  the  way  of  Bob's  men.  The  other 
soldiers  let  him  and  his  regiment  pass  without  chal- 
lenge. Bland,  faithful  to  his  professional  duties, 
poured  out  questions  as  we  went  along. 

"  How's  it  managed  ?  "  he  said.  "  Why  aren't  you 
at  each  other's  throats  ?  " 

"  So  far  as  we're  concerned,"  said  Bob,  "  there's 
nothing  to  fight  about.  We  don't  object  to  the  soldiers 
or  the  police.  We're  loyal  men." 

"  Oh,  are  you?  "  said  Bland. 

"  Quite." 

"  Unless  our  meeting's  interrupted  to-morrow,"  I 
said. 

"  Of  course,"  said  Bob. 

"  That  explains  your  position  all  right,"  said  Bland. 


THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER  209 

"  But  I  don't  quite  understand  the  others.  I  should 
have  thought — " 

"  The  soldiers,"  said  Bob,  "  have  strict  orders  not  to 
provoke  a  conflict.  I  met  Henderson  just  now  and  he 
told  me  so.  You  remember  Henderson,  Lord  Kil- 
more?  The  man  I  was  talking  to  at  the  railway  sta- 
tion. He'd  only  had  two  water  biscuits  to  eat  all  day 
yesterday.  When  I  met  him  just  now  he  told  me  he'd 
had  nothing  since  breakfast  to-day  but  one  bit  of  but- 
terscotch. He  said  he  wished  we'd  fight  at  once  if  we 
were  going  to  fight  and  get  it  over." 

"  But  the  police  — "  said  Bland,  still  trying  to  get  in- 
formation. "  I  should  have  thought  the  police  — " 

"  They  tried  to  arrest  us,"  I  said.  "  In  fact  they  did 
arrest  us  but  they  let  us  go  again." 

"I  dare  say  they'd  like  to  arrest  us,"  said  Bob,  "but 
you  see  we've  all  got  guns." 

"  Ah,"  said  Bland,  "  and  the  ordinary  inhabitants  of 
the  city  —  ?" 

"  They're  in  bed,"  said  Bob,  "  and  we've  all  agreed 
that  they'd  better  stay  there.  Nobody  wants  a  riot." 

"  Thanks,"  said  Bland.  "  If  I  can  get  my  wire 
through  I'll  let  the  world  know  the  exact  position  of 
affairs." 

"  If  you  are  wiring,"  said  Bob,  "  you  might  like  to 
mention  that  there  was  jolly  nearly  being  a  fight  at  the 
gasworks.  The  military  people  got  it  into  their  heads 
that  we  intended  to  turn  off  the  gas  and  plunge  the 
town  into  darkness  so  as  to  be  able  to  murder  people 
without  being  caught.  They  took  possession  of  the 
works  and  put  a  party  of  Royal  Engineers  in  charge. 
Fairly  silly  idea!  But  some  fool  on  our  side  —  a  fel- 


210 

low  who's  been  dragging  a  quick-firing  gun  about  the 
streets  all  day — " 

"  McConkey,"  I  said.     "  I  know  him." 

"  I  didn't  hear  his  name,"  said  Bob,  "  but  he  got  it 
into  his  head  that  the  Royal  Engineers  were  going  to 
turn  off  the  gas  so  that  the  soldiers  could  make  short 
work  of  us.  He  wanted  to  wipe  out  those  engineers 
with  his  gun.  I  don't  suppose  he'd  have  hit  them,  but 
he'd  certainly  have  tried  if  some  one  hadn't  run  and 
fetched  Conroy.  He  settled  the  matter  at  once." 

"  How  ?  "  said  Bland.  "  This  story  will  be  a  scoop 
for  me.  I  don't  expect  any  one  else  knows  it." 

"  He  handed  the  gasworks  over  to  the  police,"  said 
Bob. 

"  But  did  that  satisfy  any  one?  "  I  asked.  "  I  should 
have  thought  that  both  the  original  parties  would  have 
fallen  upon  the  police." 

"  Not  at  all,"  said  Bob.  "  The  police  are  so  much 
the  weakest  party  in  the  town  that  it's  plainly  to  their 
interest  to  keep  the  gas  burning.  Even  the  man  with 
the  machine  gun  saw  that." 

I  found  Moyne  waiting  for  me  when  I  got  back  to 
the  hotel.  He  was  very  depressed  and  took  no  more 
than  a  mere  sip  of  the  whisky  and  soda  which  I  ordered 
for  him.  I  made  an  effort  to  cheer  him  a  little  before 
I  went  to  bed. 

"I  don't  think,"  I  said,  "that  there'll  be  a  battle 
to-morrow." 

"  I  am  sure  there  will.    What's  to  stop  it  ?  " 

"  The  fact  is,"  I  said,  "  that  everybody  will  be  too 
exhausted  to  fight.  McConkey,  for  instance,  is  still 
hauling  that  field  gun  of  his  about  the  streets.  He 
simply  won't  have  strength  enough  left  to-morrow  to 


THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER  211 

shoot  it  off.  All  the  soldiers  and  all  the  volunteers  are 
marching  up  and  down.  They  mean  to  keep  it  up  all 
night.  I  should  say  that  you  and  I  and  three  or  four 
other  sensible  people  who  have  gone  to  bed  will  have 
the  town  entirely  to  ourselves  to-morrow." 

Moyne  smiled  feebly. 

"  I  wish  it  was  all  well  over,"  he  said.  "  I  hope  the 
Prime  Minister  won't  be  disagreeable  to — .  It  would 
have  been  better,  much  better,  if  she'd  gone  to  Castle 
Affey." 

"  You  needn't  be  a  bit  afraid  of  that,"  I  said. 

This  time  I  spoke  with  real  assurance.  No  man  liv- 
ing could  be  disagreeable  to  Lady  Moyne,  if  she  smiled 
at  him.  When  she  left  Belfast  she  was  so  much  in 
earnest  and  so  anxious,  that  she  would  certainly  smile 
her  very  best  at  the  Prime  Minister. 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Moyne.  "  He  may  hold  her 
responsible  to  some  extent.  And  she  is,  you  know. 
That's  the  worst  of  it,  she  is.  We  all  are." 

"  Not  at  all,"  I  said. 

"Oh,  but  we  are,"  said  Moyne.  "I  feel  that.  I 
wish  to  goodness  we'd  never — " 

"  What  I  mean  is  that  the  Prime  Minister  won't  hold 
her  responsible.  After  all,  Moyne,  he's  a  politician 
himself.  He'll  understand." 

"  But  we  said  —  we  kept  on  saying  —  Babberly  and 
all  of  us—" 

Moyne  was  becoming  morbid. 

"  Don't  be  a  fool,"  I  said.  "  Of  course  we  said 
things.  Everybody  does.  But  we  never  intended  to  do 
them.  Any  one  accustomed  to  politics  will  understand 
that.  I  expect  the  Prime  Minister  will  be  particularly 
civil  to  Lady  Moyne.  He'll  see  the  hole  she's  in." 


CHAPTER  XXI 

I  WENT  down  to  the  club  next  morning  at  about 
half-past  ten  o'clock,  hoping  to  see  Conroy.  He, 
so  I  thought,  might  be  able  to  tell  me  what  was  likely 
to  happen  during  the  day.  Moyne  could  tell  me  noth- 
ing. I  left  him  in  the  hotel,  desperately  determined  to 
take  the  chair  at  any  meeting  that  might  be  held;  but 
very  doubtful  about  how  he  was  to  do  it. 

The  streets  were  much  less  obviously  martial  than 
they  had  been  the  night  before.  There  were  no  sol- 
diers to  be  seen.  There  were  only  a  very  few  volun- 
teers, and  they  did  not  seem  to  be  doing  anything 
particular.  The  police  —  there  were  not  even  many  of 
them  —  looked  quite  peaceable,  as  if  they  had  no  more 
terrific  duties  to  perform  than  the  regulation  of  traffic 
and  the  arrest  of  errant  drunkards.  I  began  to  think 
that  I  had  accidentally  told  Moyne  the  truth  the  night 
before.  All  our  warriors  seemed  to  be  in  bed,  ex- 
hausted by  their  marching  and  counter-marching.  I 
did  not  even  see  McConkey  with  his  machine  gun. 
This  disappointed  me.  I  thought  McConkey  was  a 
man  of  more  grit.  One  night's  work  ought  not  to  have 
tired  him  out. 

Clithering  was  in  the  club.  He,  at  all  events,  was 
still  active.  Very  likely  he  was  caught  the  night  before 
by  some  patrolling  party  and  forced  to  go  to  bed.  Un- 
less he  happened  to  be  carrying  some  sort  of  certificate 
of  his  religious  faith  in  his  pocket,  Crossan  would  al- 

212 


THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER  213 

most  certainly  have  put  him  to  bed.  The  moment  he 
saw  me  he  came  fussing  up  to  me. 

"  I'm  very  glad  to  be  able  to  tell  you,"  he  said,  "  that 
the  troops  are  to  be  kept  in  barracks  to-day  unless  they 
are  urgently  required.  I'm  sure  you'll  agree  with  me 
that's  a  good  plan." 

"  It  depends,"  I  said,  "  on  the  point  of  view  you 
take.  It  won't  be  at  all  a  good  plan  for  the  police  if 
there's  any  fighting." 

"  I  telegraphed  to  the  Prime  Minister  last  night," 
said  dithering ;  "  I  sent  a  long,  detailed  message  — 

"  I  heard  about  that,"  I  said,  "  from  one  of  the  war 
correspondents,  a  man  called  Bland.  You  rather 
blocked  the  wires,  and  he  couldn't  get  his  messages 
through." 

"  It  was  of  the  utmost  possible  importance,"  said 
dithering,  "  that  the  Prime  Minister  should  thoroughly 
understand  the  situation.  Our  original  idea  was  that 
the  appearance  of  large  bodies  of  troops  in  the  streets 
would  overawe — " 

"  They  weren't  overawing  any  one,"  I  said. 

"  So  I  saw.  So  I  saw  yesterday  afternoon.  I  tele- 
graphed at  once.  I  gave  it  as  my  opinion  that  the 
troops,  so  far  from  overawing,  were  exasperating  the 
populace.  I  suggested  —  I'm  sure  you'll  agree  with 
me  that  the  suggestion  was  wise  —  in  fact  I  urged  very 
strongly  that  the  troops  should  be  kept  out  of  sight  to- 
day—  under  arms  and  ready  for  emergencies  —  but 
out  of  sight.  I  am  in  great  hopes  that  the  people  will 
settle  down  quietly.  Now,  what  do  you  think,  Lord 
Kilmore?" 

"  They'll  be  quite  quiet,"  I  said,  "  if  you  let  them  hold 
their  meeting." 


214  THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER 

"Oh,  but  that's  impossible,"  said  dithering.  "I 
quite  agree  with  the  Prime  Minister  there.  Any  sign 
of  weakness  on  the  part  of  the  Government  at  the  pres- 
ent crisis  would  be  fatal,  absolutely  fatal.  The  Belfast 
people  must  understand  that  they  cannot  be  allowed  to 
defy  the  law." 

"  Then  you'd  better  trot  out  your  soldiers  again,  all 
you've  got." 

Clithering  did  not  seem  at  all  pleased  with  this  sug- 
gestion. 

"  We  shall  rely  upon  the  police,"  he  said,  "  to  put  a 
stop  to  the  meeting.  I  do  not  anticipate  that  there  will 
be  any  organized  — " 

"  On  the  whole,"  I  said,  "  I'm  very  glad  I'm  not  a 
policeman." 

"  Surely,"  said  Clithering,  "  the  responsible  leaders 
of  the  Unionist  party  will  understand  the  criminal  folly 
of-  You  don't  anticipate — " 

"  I'm  nothing  of  a  prophet,"  I  said ;  "  but  if  you  ask 
my  opinion  I'd  say  that  the  police  will  be  wiped  out  in 
about  ten  minutes.  They're  a  very  fine  body  of  men; 
but  there  aren't  nearly  enough  of  them.  If  you  really 
want  to  stop  the  meeting  you'll  have  to  get  out  the  sol- 
diers, and  even  with  them  — " 

"  But  we  want  to  avoid  bloodshed,"  said  Clithering. 
"  We  cannot  have  the  citizens  of  Belfast  shot  down  by 
the  military.  Think  of  the  consequences,  the  political 
consequences.  A  Tory  Government  might  —  but  we! 
Besides,  the  horrible  moral  guilt." 

"  It's  no  affair  of  mine,"  I  said ;  "  but  I  should  have 
thought  —  I  dare  say  I  am  wrong.  There  may  be  no 
moral  guilt  about  killing  policemen." 


THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER          215 

"  But  they  won't  be  killed,"  said  dithering.  "  Our 
one  aim  is  to  avoid  bloodshed." 

"  You're  trying  the  police  rather  high,"  I  said. 
"  They'll  do  what  you  tell  them,  of  course.  But  I  don't 
think  it's  quite  fair  to  ask  them  to  face  ten  times  their 
own  number  of  men  all  armed  with  magazine  rifles 
when  they  have  nothing  but  those  ridiculous  little 
carbines." 

"  Oh,  but  the  police  are  not  to  have  firearms,"  said 
Clithering.  "  Strict  orders  have  been  given  —  batons 
ought  to  be  quite  sufficient.  We  must  avoid  all  risk  of 
bloodshed." 

"  Good  gracious !  "  I  said.  "  Do  you  expect  a  hand- 
ful of  police  with  small,  round  sticks  in  their  hands  — 
Oh !  go  away,  Clithering.  You  mean  well,  I  dare  say, 
but  you're  absurd." 

It  is  very  seldom  that  I  lose  my  temper  in  this  sud- 
den way.  I  was  sorry  a  moment  afterwards  that  I  had 
given  way  to  my  feelings.  Poor  Clithering  looked 
deeply  hurt.  He  turned  from  me  with  an  expression 
of  pained  astonishment  and  sat  down  by  himself  in  a 
corner.  I  pitied  him  so  much  that  I  made  an  effort  to 
console  him. 

"I  dare  say  it  will  be  all  right,"  I  said.  "The 
police  will  probably  have  sense  enough  to  go  away  be- 
fore they're  shot.  Then  the  meeting  will  be  held  quite 
peaceably.  I  don't  know  what  the  political  conse- 
quences of  that  may  be,  but  you'll  get  off  the  moral 
guilt,  and  there'll  be  no  bloodshed." 

This  ought  to  have  cheered  and  consoled  Clithering; 
but  it  did  not.  It  made  him  more  nervous  than  ever. 

"  I  must  go  at  once,"  he  said,  "  and  see  the  General 
in  command.  Everything  must  be — " 


216  THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER 

He  left  the  room  hurriedly  without  finishing  his  sen- 
tence. This  annoyed  me.  I  wanted  to  know  what 
everything  must  be. 

The  reading-room  of  the  club  is  on  the  first  floor, 
and  the  window  commands  an  excellent  view  of  Done- 
gal Place,  one  of  the  principal  thoroughfares  of  Bel- 
fast. The  club  stands  right  across  the  eastern  end  of 
the  street,  and  the  traffic  is  diverted  to  right  and  left 
along  Royal  Avenue  and  High  Street.  At  the  far,  the 
western  end,  of  Donegal  Place,  stands  the  new  City 
Hall,  with  the  statute  of  Queen  Victoria  in  front  of  it. 
There  again  the  traffic  is  split  at  right  angles.  Some 
of  the  best  shops  in  the  town  lie  on  either  side  of  this 
street.  A  continuous  stream  of  trams  passes  up  and 
down  it,  to  and  from  the  junction,  which  is  directly 
under  the  club  windows,  and  is  the  centre  of  the  whole 
Belfast  tramway  system.  It  is  always  pleasant  to 
stand  at  the  reading-room  window  and  watch  the  very 
busy  and  strenuous  traffic  of  this  street.  As  a  view 
point  on  that  particular  morning  the  window  was  as 
good  as  possible.  Donegal  Place  is  the  chief  and  most 
obvious  way  from  the  northern  and  eastern  parts  of 
the  city  to  the  place  where  the  meeting  was  to  be  held. 

Between  eleven  o'clock  and  twelve  the  volunteers 
began  to  appear  in  considerable  numbers.  I  saw  at 
once  that  I  had  been  wrong  in  supposing  that  they 
meant  to  spend  the  day  in  bed.  One  company  after 
another  came  up  Royal  Avenue  or  swung  round  the 
corner  from  High  Street,  and  marched  before  my  eyes 
along  Donegal  Place  towards  the  scene  of  the  meeting. 
Small  bodies  of  police  appeared  here  and  there,  head- 
ing in  the  same  direction.  Now  and  then  a  few 
mounted  police  trotted  by,  making  nearly  as  much  jan- 


THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER  217 

gle  as  if  they  had  been  regular  soldiers.  The  hour 
fixed  for  the  meeting  was  one  o'clock,  but  at  noon  the 
number  of  men  in  the  street  was  so  great  that  ordi- 
nary traffic  was  stopped.  A  long  line  of  trams,  unable 
to  force  their  way  along,  blocked  the  centre  of  the  thor- 
oughfare. The  drivers  and  conductors  left  them  and 
went  away.  Crowds  of  women  and  children  collected 
on  the  roofs  of  these  trams  and  cheered  the  men  as  they 
marched  along. 

At  half-past  twelve  Moyne  drove  along  in  a  carriage. 
The  Dean  was  beside  him,  and  Cahoon  had  a  seat  with 
his  back  to  the  horses.  The  progress  of  the  carriage 
was  necessarily  very  slow.  I  could  not  see  Moyne's 
face,  but  he  sat  in  a  hunched-up  attitude  suggestive  of 
great  misery.  The  Dean  sat  bolt  upright,  and  kept  tak- 
ing off  his  hat  to  the  crowd  when  cheers  broke  out. 
Cahoon,  whose  face  I  could  see,  seemed  cheerful  and 
confident. 

At  the  back  of  the  carriage,  perched  on  a  kind  of 
bar  and  holding  on  tightly  to  the  springs,  was  Bland. 
Barefooted  urchins  often  ride  in  this  way,  and  appear 
to  enjoy  themselves  until  the  coachman  lashes  back- 
wards at  them  with  his  whip.  I  never  saw  a  grown 
man  do  it  before,  and  I  should  have  supposed  that  it 
would  be  most  uncomfortable.  Bland,  however, 
seemed  quite  cheerful,  and  I  admired  the  instinct  which 
led  him  to  attach  himself  to  Moyne's  carriage.  He 
made  sure  of  being  present  at  the  outbreak  of  hostilities, 
since  the  meeting  could  neither  be  held  nor  stopped  till 
Moyne  arrived ;  and  he  had  hit  upon  far  the  easiest  way 
of  getting  through  the  crowd  which  thronged  Donegal 
Place. 

At  a  quarter  to  one  Bob  Power  and  his  company 


2i8  THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER 

arrived.  Instead  of  marching  to  the  scene  of  the  meet- 
ing Bob  halted  and  drew  his  men  across  the  end  of  the 
street  right  underneath  the  club  windows.  Crossan, 
with  another  company  of  volunteers,  joined  him. 

Bob  and  Crossan  consulted  together,  and  Bob  gave 
an  order  which  I  could  not  hear.  Two  of  his  men  laid 
down  their  rifles  and  ran  along  the  street,  one  taking 
each  side  of  the  line  of  trams.  They  shouted  to  the 
people  on  the  roofs  of  the  trams  as  they  passed  them. 
The  orders,  if  they  were  orders,  were  obeyed.  There 
was  a  hurried  stampede  of  women  and  children.  They 
climbed  down  from  the  trams  and  ran  along  the  street 
towards  my  end  of  it.  Bob's  men  opened  their  ranks 
and  let  them  go  through. 

One  after  another  the  shops  in  the  streets  were 
closed.  Roller  blinds  and  shutters  covered  the  win- 
dows. A  telegraph  boy  on  a  red  bicycle  rode  through 
Bob's  lines  into  the  empty  street.  He  stopped  and  dis- 
mounted, evidently  puzzled  by  the  deserted  appearance 
of  the  street.  Two  of  the  volunteers  seized  him  and 
took  the  envelope  from  his  wallet.  They  sent  him 
back  to  the  post-office.  The  poor  boy  was  so  fright- 
ened that  he  left  his  bicycle  behind  him. 

Bob  gave  an  order  and  one  of  his  men  took  the 
bicycle  and  rode  off  in  the  direction  of  the  meeting.  A 
few  minutes  later  one  of  the  club  waiters  brought  the 
telegram  to  me.  It  was  from  Lady  Moyne. 

"  Saw  the  Prime  Minister  this  morning.  He  is  tak- 
ing all  possible  measures  to  avoid  bloodshed.  Has  tel- 
egraphed instructions  to  the  military  authorities.  Tell 
Moyne.  Am  sending  duplicate  message  to  him.  Want 
to  make  sure  of  reaching  him." 

I  glanced  at  my  watch.     It  was  five  minutes  past 


THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER  219 

one ;  evidently  too  late  to  tell  Moyne  anything.  What- 
ever was  happening  at  the  scene  of  the  meeting  had 
begun  to  happen  at  one  o'clock.  I  waited. 

Ten  minutes  later  a  motor  car,  driven  at  a  furious 
pace,  dashed  round  the  corner  at  the  far  end  of  the 
street,  and  sped  towards  us.  A  single  passenger  sat 
beside  the  driver.  I  recognized  him  at  once.  It  was 
Clithering.  Halfway  down  the  street  he  suddenly 
caught  sight  of  Bob's  volunteers.  He  clutched  the 
driver  by  the  arm.  The  car  stopped  abruptly,  backed, 
turned  round  and  sped  back  again.  I  lost  sight  of  it 
as  it  swept  round  the  corner. 

Then  followed  another  period  of  waiting  in  tense  si- 
lence. The  men  beneath  me  —  there  must  have  been 
about  five  hundred  of  them  —  did  not  speak.  They 
scarcely  moved.  Bob  and  Crossan  stood  in  front  of 
them,  rigid,  silent. 

Bob's  scout,  the  man  who  had  mounted  the  telegraph 
boy's  red  bicycle,  appeared  in  front  of  the  Town  Hall 
and  came  tearing  along  the  street.  He  sprang  to  the 
ground  in  front  of  Bob  and  Crossan  and  spoke  to  them 
eagerly.  They  turned  almost  at  once  and  gave  an 
order.  Their  men  lay  down.  I  heard  the  rattle  of 
their  rifles  on  the  pavement.  I  could  see  their  hands 
fiddling  with  the  sights,  slipping  along  the  barrels  and 
stocks,  opening  and  snapping  shut  the  magazines.  The 
men  were  nervous,  but,  except  for  the  movements  of 
their  hands,  they  showed  no  signs  of  great  excitement. 
One  man,  near  the  end  of  the  line,  deliberately  unbut- 
toned his  collar  and  threw  it  away.  Another  took  off 
his  coat,  folded  it  up  carefully,  and  laid  it  on  the  ground 
behind  him.  It  struck  me  that  it  was  his  vest  coat,  a 
Sunday  garment  which  he  was  unwilling  to  soil.  Bob 


220  THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER 

walked  slowly  along  the  line,  speaking  in  low  tones  to 
the  men.  Crossan  stood  rigidly  still  a  few  paces  in 
front  of  the  line,  watching  the  far  end  of  the  street. 

Another  cyclist  appeared  and  rode  towards  us.  One 
of  the  men  fired  his  rifle.  Crossan  turned  round, 
walked  back  to  the  man,  and  struck  him  on  the  head. 
Then  he  wrenched  the  rifle  from  his  hands,  threw  it 
into  the  street,  and  kicked  the  man  savagely.  The  man 
made  no  resistance.  He  got  up  and  slowly  left  the 
ranks,  walking  away  shamefacedly  with  hanging  head. 
I  do  not  think  that  Crossan  had  spoken  to  him,  nor  did 
he  speak  to  any  one  else.  His  action  explained  itself. 
He  turned  his  back  on  the  men  and  once  again  stared 
down  the  empty  street.  Discipline  was  evidently 
to  be  strictly  preserved  in  the  ranks  of  the  volunteers. 
There  was  to  be  no  shooting  until  the  order  was 
given. 

When  Crossan's  proceedings  ceased  to  be  interesting 
I  looked  round  to  see  what  had  become  of  the  cyclist. 
I  caught  sight  of  him  in  the  custody  of  two  volunteers. 
He  was  shoved  through  the  door  of  the  club.  I  could 
only  see  the  top  of  his  head,  and  so  failed  to  recognize 
him  until  he  entered  the  room  and  came  over  to  me. 

"Bland,"  I  said.     "How  did  you  get  here?" 

"  I  spotted  this  window,"  said  Bland,  "  as  I  rode 
along,  and  I  asked  them  to  put  me  in  here.  Is  it  a 
club?" 

"Yes,"  I  said.     "What  happened  at  the  meeting?" 

"  Get  me  a  whisky  and  soda,"  said  Bland,  "  if  you're 
a  member." 

I  rang  the  bell. 

"What  happened?"  I  said.  "Did  they  hold  the 
meeting?  " 


THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER  221 

"  They  were  holding  it,"  said  Bland,  "  when  I  left. 
But  it  wasn't  much  of  a  meeting." 

I  ordered  a  whisky  and  soda  from  a  terrified  waiter. 

"  What  about  the  police  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  They  ran  over  the  police,"  said  Bland.  "  I  don't 
think  they  killed  many.  There  wasn't  any  shooting. 
The  whole  thing  was  done  with  a  rush.  Damned  well 
done.  You  couldn't  call  it  a  charge.  The  police  were 
drawn  up  in  the  middle  of  an  open  space  where  four 
or  five  roads  met.  The  men  kind  of  flowed  over  them. 
When  the  place  was  clear  again,  there  weren't  any 
police.  That's  all.  Ah !  here's  the  whisky !  " 

He  was  evidently  thirsty  for  he  drank  the  whole 
tumbler-full  at  a  draught. 

"  What  about  Moyne  ?  "  I  said.    "  What  did  he  do  ?  " 

"  Oh !  He  stood  up  on  the  back  seat  of  a  carriage 
and  began  to  make  a  speech.  But  that  didn't  matter." 

"What  did  he  say?" 

"  I  don't  know.  I  didn't  stay  to  listen.  I  expect  he 
urged  them  not  to  kill  any  one.  But  it  does  not  matter 
what  he  said.  The  men  with  rifles,  the  volunteers,  be- 
gan to  march  off  at  once,  in  good  order,  some  in  one 
direction,  some  in  another.  In  five  minutes  there 
wasn't  anybody  left  to  listen  to  Lord  Moyne  except  a 
few  corner  boys.  I  can  tell  you  this,  Lord  Kilmore, 
there's  a  man  with  a  head  on  his  shoulders  behind  this 
insurrection.  He  has  those  men  of  his  holding  all  the 
most  important  parts  of  the  town.  I  got  hold  of  a 
bicycle  — " 

"  How  ?  "  I  said.  "  You're  very  wonderful,  Bland. 
How  did  you  get  a  bicycle  in  the  middle  of  a  battle- 
field?" 

"  Stole  it,"  said  Bland.     "  It  belonged  to  a  police- 


222  THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER 

man,  but  he  is  probably  dead,  so  he  won't  mind.  I 
rode  after  two  or  three  different  parties  of  volunteers 
just  to  see  where  they  were  going.  When  I  got  back  to 
the  place  of  the  meeting  there  was  a  body  of  cavalry 
trotting  up.  I  had  a  sort  of  feeling  that  the  battle 
would  come  this  way.  It  ought  to.  This  is  the  most 
important  place  in  the  town.  All  lines  of  communica- 
tion meet  here.  Your  side  has  brains  enough  to  see 
that.  The  question  is,  will  the  soldiers  attack  them 
here?  I  chanced  it.  If  there's  any  good  fighting  to- 
day it  ought  to  be  here." 

I  am  not  sure  whether  the  General  in  command  of 
the  troops  had  the  brains  to  recognize  that  the  post 
which  Bob  Power  held  was  the  key  to  the  whole  situa- 
tion. He  did  a  good  deal  of  desultory  street  fighting 
in  other  places,  and  though  he  made  a  strong  show  of 
attacking  Bob  Power  in  the  end  I  think  he  was  drawn 
into  it  by  accident. 

Bland  lit  a  cigarette,  and  he  and  I  stood  at  the  win- 
dow watching. 

A  crowd  of  men  appeared  at  the  far  end  of  the  street, 
running  in  wild  disorder.  They  ran  quite  silently  with 
bent  heads  and  outstretched  hands.  Behind  them,  im- 
mediately behind  them,  came  a  squadron  of  dragoons 
galloping.  As  the  fugitives  turned  into  the  street  the 
soldiers  overtook  them  and  struck  right  and  left  with 
their  swords.  They  were  using  the  flats,  not  the  edges 
of  the  blades.  The  fugitives  staggered  under  the 
blows.  Some  of  them  stumbled  and  fell;  but  I  do  not 
think  that  any  one  was  seriously  hurt. 

"  Lord  Moyne's  audience,"  said  Bland.  "  The  cor- 
ner boys.  There's  not  an  armed  man  among  them." 

I  noticed  that  when  he  pointed  it  out  to  me.     The 


THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER  223 

flying  men,  wild  with  terror,  rushed  into  the  empty 
trams.  For  the  moment  they  were  safe  enough.  The 
dragoons  could  not  get  at  them  without  dismounting. 
They  pulled  up  their  horses. 

Bob  Power  gave  an  order.  Rifles  cracked  all  along 
his  line.  The  men  must  have  emptied  their  magazines 
before  they  stopped  firing.  The  officer  of  the  dragoons 
gave  an  order.  His  squadron  wheeled  and  galloped 
back  the  way  they  came.  Five  horses  lay  plunging  on 
the  ground.  Four  men  dragged  themselves  clear  of 
their  saddles  and  ran  after  their  comrades.  The  other 
lay  where  he  fell. 

Six  men  detached  themselves  from  Bob's  lines  and 
ran  forward.  In  a  few  minutes  they  were  dragging 
the  terrified  fugitives  from  the  trams  and  driving  them 
along  the  street.  They  came  towards  us,  wailing  aloud 
in  high  shrill  voices,  like  women.  Behind  them  came 
Bob's  volunteers,  carrying  the  wounded  dragoon,  and 
supporting  a  couple  of  the  fugitives  who  had  been 
knocked  down  by  the  soldiers.  The  howling  men  were 
pushed  through  the  ranks  to  the  rear.  The  volunteers 
closed  up  again  in  silence.  Not  even  when  the  dra- 
goons turned  and  galloped  away  did  they  break  their 
silence.  I  have  heard  of  soldiers  going  into  battle 
with  shouts  and  greeting  moments  of  success  with 
cheers.  These  men  fired  on  their  enemies  with- 
out a  shout  and  saw  them  fly  without  a  cheer.  Five 
minutes  later  a  company  of  infantry  marched  into  the 
street,  extended  into  open  order,  and  fired.  Bob's  men 
fired.  More  infantry  came.  They  deployed  along  the 
front  of  the  City  Hall.  The  rifle  fire  from  both  ends 
of  the  street  was  rapid  and  continuous.  It  was  the 
first  time  in  my  life  that  I  had  ever  been  in  danger  of 


224  THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER 

being  killed  by  a  bullet.  I  confess  that  for  a  few  min- 
utes I  was  so  nervous  that  I  was  unable  to  give  any 
attention  to  the  fighting  going  on  in  front  of  me.  So 
many  rifles  were  going  off  at  the  far  end  of  the  street 
that  it  seemed  certain  that  not  only  Bland  and  I  but 
every  one  of  Bob's  men  must  necessarily  die  at  once. 
To  my  very  great  surprise  I  was  not  hit.  My  nervous- 
ness began  to  disappear.  I  peered  out  of  the  window 
and  noticed  that  none  of  Bob's  men  were  either  killed 
or  wounded. 

"  I  suppose,"  I  said  to  Bland,  "  that  this  is  a  regular 
battle.  You've  had  some  experience  so  you  ought  to 
know." 

"  Oh  yes,"  said  Bland,  "  it's  a  battle  right  enough  — 
of  sorts." 

A  bullet  snicked  through  the  window  glass  above  my 
head  and  buried  itself  in  the  wall  at  the  far  end  of  the 
room.  I  looked  at  the  volunteers  again.  They  did  not 
seem  to  be  suffering.  I  took  a  glance  at  the  soldiers  at 
the  far  end  of  the  street.  The  firing  did  not  seem  even 
to  annoy  them. 

"  There  seems  to  me,"  I  said,  "  to  be  very  little  dam- 
age done.  Don't  they  usually  kill  each  other  in  bat- 
tles?" 

"  The  shooting's  damned  bad,"  said  Bland,  "  damned 
bad  on  both  sides.  I  never  saw  worse.  I  wonder  if 
they  mean  to  shoot  straight." 

Bob's  men,  I  think,  were  doing  their  best ;  but  they 
were  certainly  making  very  bad  practice.  It  did  not 
seem  to  me  that  during  the  first  twenty  minutes  they 
hit  a  single  living  thing  except  the  four  dragoon  horses. 
The  walls  of  the  houses  on  both  sides  of  the  street  were 
filled  with  bullet  marks.  A  curious  kind  of  shallow 


THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER  225 

furrow  appeared  about  halfway  down  the  street.  At 
first  it  seemed  a  mere  line  drawn  on  the  ground.  Then 
it  deepened  into  a  little  trench  with  a  ridge  of  dust  be- 
yond it. 

"  There  must  "be  a  ton  or  two  of  good  bullets  buried 
there,"  said  Bland.  "  They  haven't  sighted  for  the  dis- 
tance." 

"  I  don't  blame  the  volunteers,"  I  said,  "  but  the  sol- 
diers really  ought  to  shoot  better.  A  lot  of  money  is 
spent  on  that  army  every  year,  and  if  they  can't  hit  a 
single  enemy  at  that  distance — " 

"  I  rather  think,"  said  Bland,  "  that  the  soldiers  are 
firing  up  into  the  air  on  purpose.  That  bullet  which 
came  through  our  window  is  the  only  one  which  hit 
anything.  It's  shocking  waste  of  ammunition." 

The  door  of  the  reading-room  opened  behind  me.  I 
turned  and  saw  Sir  Samuel  Clithering.  He  staggered 
into  the  room  and  looked  deadly  white.  For  a  mo- 
ment I  thought  he  must  be  blind.  He  plunged  straight 
into  a  table  which  stood  in  the  middle  of  the  room  in 
front  of  him. 

"  My  God !     My  God !  "  he  cried. 

Then  he  was  violently  sick.  He  must  have  got  into 
the  club  somehow  from  the  back.  I  went  over  to 
him,  intending  to  get  him  out  of  the  room  before 
he  was  sick  again.  He  clutched  my  arm  and  held  me 
tight. 

"  Stop  it,"  he  said.  "  Stop  it.  Promise  them  any- 
thing, anything  at  all ;  only  get  them  to  stop." 

I  did  not  quite  know  what  Clithering  wanted  me  to 
do.  It  seemed  absurd  to  go  down  to  Bob  Power  and 
offer,  on  behalf  of  the  Government,  to  introduce 
amendments  into  the  Home  Rule  Bill.  Yet  something 


226          THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER 

of  the  sort  must  have  been  in  Clithering's  mind  when 
he  urged  me  to  promise  anything.  He  probably  had 
some  vague  idea  of  consulting  the  wishes  of  the  elec- 
torate. That  is  the  sort  of  thing  dithering  would 
think  of  doing  in  an  emergency. 

"It's  horrible,  too  horrible,"  he  said.  "Oh  God! 
Bloodshed !  Bloodshed !  " 

"  Cheer  up,"  I  said,  "  I  don't  think  a  single  man  on 
either  side  has  been  hit  yet." 

"  I  say,"  said  Bland  from  the  window,  "  did  the  sol- 
diers get  orders  to  fire  over  the  people's  heads  ? " 

"  Yes,"  said  Clithering.  "  Strict  orders.  The  Cab- 
inet was  unanimous.  The  Prime  Minister  telegraphed 
this  morning." 

"  Rather  rough  on  the  peaceable  inhabitants  of  the 
town,"  said  Bland,  "  the  men  who  have  kept  out  of  the 
battle.  I  suppose  you  forgot  that  bullets  come  down 
again  somewhere." 

"  I  was  in  one  of  the  back  streets,"  wailed  Clithering, 
"  far  away  — " 

"  Exactly,"  said  Bland,  "  it's  just  in  back  streets  that 
those  things  happen." 

"  It  was  a  woman,"  said  Clithering,  "  a  girl  with  a 
baby  in  her  arms.  I  did  not  know  what  had  happened. 
I  ran  over  to  her.  She  and  the  baby  —  both  of  them. 
I  shall  never  forget  it.  Oh !  " 

Then  he  was  sick  again.  Clithering  is  a  highly  civil- 
ized man.  I  suppose  one  must  be  highly  civilized  if  one 
is  to  keep  pace  with  the  changing  fashions  in  stockings. 
It  was  out  of  what  is  called  "  Fancy  Hosiery  "  that 
Clithering  made  most  of  his  money.  I  felt  very  sorry 
for  him,  but  his  performances  were  making  me  feel 
sick  too.  I  joined  Bland  again  at  the  window. 


THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER  227 

"  They've  got  a  machine  gun,"  said  Bland.  "  Things 
will  get  brisker  now." 

I  looked  out  anxiously  and  saw  with  a  sense  of  relief 
that  it  was  Bob's  side  which  had  got  the  new  gun. 
McConkey  and  his  assistants  had  turned  up  from  some- 
where and  were  dragging  their  weapon  into  position 
under  the  window  of  a  large  jeweller's  shop  on  the  left 
flank  of  Bob's  firing  line.  This  was  bad  enough.  In 
street  fighting  at  close  quarters  a  gun  of  this  kind  is 
very  murderous  and  ought  to  do  a  terrible  amount  of 
destruction.  But  things  would  have  been  much  worse 
if  the  soldiers  had  had  it.  They,  I  suppose,  would 
have  known  how  to  use  it.  I  doubted  McConkey's 
skill  in  spite  of  his  practice  on  the  slob  lands  below  the 
Shore  Road. 

"  The  soldiers  will  have  to  shoot  in  earnest  now," 
said  Bland.  "  If  that  fellow  can  handle  his  gun  he'll 
simply  mow  them  down." 

It  looked  at  first,  I  am  bound  to  say,  as  if  McConkey 
had  really  mastered  his  new  trade.  He  got  his  weapon 
into  position  and  adjusted  a  belt  of  cartridges,  working 
as  coolly  as  if  he  were  arranging  the  machinery  of  the 
Green  Loaney  Scutching  Mill.  He  seemed  to  find  a 
horrible  satisfaction  in  what  he  was  doing.  Twice  I 
saw  him  pat  the  muzzle  of  the  thing  as  if  to  give  it 
encouragement.  I  dare  say  he  talked  to  it. 

"  He's  damned  cool,"  said  Bland.  "  I've  seen  fel- 
lows who'd  been  fighting  for  months  not  half  so — " 

Then  McConkey  started  his  infernal  machine.  The 
effect  was  most  surprising.  Two  tramcars,  which  were 
standing  close  to  the  far  end  of  the  street,  simply  dis- 
appeared. There  was  a  kind  of  eruption  of  splintered 
wood,  shattered  glass  and  small  fragments  of  metal. 


228  THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER 

When  that  subsided  there  was  no  sign  of  there  ever 
having  been  tramcars  in  that  particular  spot.  Mc- 
Conkey  evidently  noticed  that  he  had  not  aimed  his 
pet  quite  straight.  He  stopped  it  at  once. 

An  officer  —  I  think  it  was  Bob's  friend  Henderson 
—  sprang  to  his  feet  at  the  far  end  of  the  street  and 
ran  along  the  line  of  soldiers  shouting  an  order. 

"  They'll  begin  in  earnest  now,"  said  Bland.  "  Why 
doesn't  he  rattle  them  again  with  the  gun  ?  " 

McConkey  had  the  best  will  in  the  world,  but  some- 
thing had  gone  wrong  with  his  gun;  it  was  a  compli- 
cated machine,  and  he  had  evidently  jammed  some  part 
of  it.  I  saw  him  working  f  renziedly  with  a  large  iron 
spanner  in  his  hand ;  but  nothing  he  could  do  produced 
the  least  effect.  It  would  not  go  off. 

In  the  meantime  Henderson's  soldiers  stood  up  and 
stopped  firing.  The  volunteers  stopped  firing  too. 
The  soldiers  formed  in  a  line.  There  was  silence  in 
the  street  for  a  moment,  dead  silence.  I  could  hear 
McConkey's  spanner  ringing  against  the  iron  of  his 
gun.  Then  Bob  Power  shouted. 

"  They're  going  to  charge  us.  Up,  boys,  and  come 
on !  We'll  meet  them  halfway." 

"  They're  all  gone  mad  together,"  said  Bland.  "  You 
can't  charge  down  magazine]  rifles.  It's  impossible." 

"  It  seems  to  me,"  I  said,  "  that  if  this  battle  is  ever 
to  be  finished  at  all  they'll  have  to  get  at  each  other 
with  their  fists.  So  far  weapons  have  been  a  total 
failure." 

dithering  crawled  across  the  room  while  we  were 
speaking  and  clutched  me  by  the  legs.  I  do  not  think 
it  was  fear  of  the  bullets  which  made  him  crawl.  He 
had  been  so  very  sick  that  he  was  too  weak  to  walk. 


THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER  229 

"What's  happening?"  he  said.  "For  God's  sake 
tell  me.  Are  there  many  killed  ?  " 

"  No  one  yet  on  this  side,"  I  said.  "  There  may  be 
a  few  soldiers  hit,  but  I  don't  suppose  you  mind  about 
them.  There's  just  going  to  be  a  charge.  Get  up  and 
you'll  be  able  to  see  it." 

Clithering  caught  the  edge  of  the  window-sash  and 
dragged  himself  to  his  feet.  He  was  just  in  time  to  see 
Bob's  men  rush  along  the  street.  They  did  not  charge 
in  any  sort  of  order.  They  simply  spread  out  and 
ran  as  fast  as  they  could,  as  fast  as  I  ever  saw  men 
run.  Some  of  them  took  their  rifles  with  them. 
Others,  evidently  agreeing  with  me  that  they  would  do 
more  destruction  with  their  fists,  left  their  rifles  be- 
hind. They  covered  fifty  or  sixty  yards,  and  were 
still  going  fast  when  they  discovered  that  the  soldiers 
were  not  waiting  for  them.  Henderson  walked  along- 
side the  leading  men  of  the  column  with  his  ridiculously 
long  sword  in  his  hand.  Two  mounted  officers  brought 
up  the  rear.  Two  men,  with  their  rifles  sloped  over 
their  shoulders,  marched  briskly  across  the  end  of  the 
street.  In  the  middle  of  the  column  were  eight  stretch- 
ers carried  along.  Bob's  men,  in  spite  of  their  bad 
shooting,  had  wounded  that  number  of  their  enemies. 
I  found  out  afterwards  that  they  had  killed  three  oth- 
ers outright.  The  discipline  of  the  British  army  must 
be  remarkably  good.  In  spite  of  this  heavy  loss  the 
soldiers  obeyed  orders,  and  steadily  refrained  from 
trying  to  kill  Bob's  men.  Their  final  disappearance 
was  a  crowning  proof  of  their  obedience.  I  watched 
this  body  of  infantry  march  out  of  sight  into  the  next 
street.  They  were  not  running  away.  They  were  not 
even  retreating.  They  gave  me  the  impression  of  hav- 


230  THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER 

ing  stopped  the  battle  in  a  way  that  was  quite  custom- 
ary because  it  was  time  for  them  to  do  something  else 
—  get  some  dinner  perhaps. 

This  performance  produced,  as  might  be  expected, 
a  most  disconcerting  effect  upon  Bob's  warriors.  They 
stopped  running  and  stared  at  their  departing  foes. 
Then  they  turned  round  and  gaped  at  each  other. 
Then  they  applied  to  Bob  Power  for  information. 
They  wanted  to  know,  apparently,  whether  they  had 
gained  a  great  and  glorious  victory,  or  were  to  regard 
the  departure  of  the  enemy  as  some  subtle  kind  of 
strategy.  Bob  seemed  as  much  puzzled  as  every  one 
else.  Even  Bland,  in  spite  of  his  experience  of  battles 
in  two  great  wars,  was  taken  aback. 

"  Well,  I'm  damned,"  he  said. 

"  Thank  God,  thank  God !  "  said  dithering. 

Then  he  crumpled  up  and  fainted.  He  meant,  I 
think,  to  express  the  relief  he  felt  at  the  cessation  of 
hostilities.  He  had  not  heard,  or  if  he  heard,  had  not 
heeded,  Eland's  remark.  Clithering  is  not  the  type  of 
man  to  thank  God  for  any  one's  damnation,  and  he  had 
no  special  dislike  of  Bland. 

"  I'm  damned,"  said  Bland  again. 

"  I  suppose,"  I  said,  "  that  it's  rather  unusual  in  bat- 
tles to  do  that  sort  of  thing  —  march  off,  I  mean  — 
without  giving  some  sort  of  notice  to  the  other  side.  It 
strikes  me  as  rather  bad  form.  There  ought  to  be  a 
rule  against  it." 

Bob's  men  returned,  sheepishly  and  dejectedly,  to 
their  original  posts.  Crossan  was  arguing  with  Mc- 
Conkey  about  the  condition  of  the  machine  gun.  The 
young  man  who  had  taken  off  his  coat  before  the  battle 
picked  it  up  from  the  ground,  brushed  it  carefully,  and 


THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER  231 

put  it  on.  Bob  Power  walked  along  the  street  with  a 
note-book  in  his  hands.  He  appeared  to  be  writing 
down  the  names  of  the  shopkeepers  whose  windows 
were  broken.  He  is  a  young  man  of  active  and  ener- 
getic disposition.  I  suppose  he  felt  that  he  must  do 
something. 

Bland  stared  through  the  window  for  some  time. 
He  hoped,  I  dare  say,  that  the  soldiers  would  come 
back,  with  reinforcements,  perhaps  with  artillery.  At 
last  he  gave  up  this  idea. 

"  Let's  have  a  drink,"  he  said.     "  We  want  one." 

He  turned  abruptly  and  stumbled  over  Clithering, 
who  had  fallen  just  beside  him.  I  got  hold  of  a  waiter, 
the  only  one  left  in  the  club,  and  made  him  bring  us  a 
whisky  and  soda.  Bland  squirted  the  syphon  into 
Clithering's  face,  and  I  poured  small  quantities  of 
whisky  into  his  mouth.  Clithering  is  a  rigid  teetotaller, 
and  has  for  years  been  supporting  every  Bill  for  the 
suppression  of  public  houses  which  has  been  brought 
before  Parliament.  The  whisky  which  he  swallowed 
revived  him  in  the  most  amazing  way. 

"  Have  they  gone  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  If  you  mean  the  soldiers,"  said  Bland,  "  they  have. 
I  can't  imagine  why,  but  they  have." 

"  I  telegraphed  to  the  Prime  Minister,"  said  Clither- 
ing. "  It  was  hours  and  hours  ago.  Or  was  it  yester- 
day? It  was  just  before  I  saw  the  woman  shot.  I  told 
him  that  —  that  the  soldiers  —  they  were  only  meant  to 
overawe  the  people  —  not  to  kill  them  —  I  said  the  sol- 
diers must  be  withdrawn  to  barracks  —  I  said  they 
must  not  be  allowed — " 

I  do  not  know  whether  it  was  exhaustion  after 
nervous  strain  or  the  whisky  which  affected  Clithering. 


232  THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER 

Whisky  —  and  he  had  swallowed  nearly  a  glassful  — 
does  produce  striking  effects  upon  teetotallers ;  so  it 
may  have  been  the  whisky.  Clithering  turned  slowly 
over  on  his  side  and  went  sound  asleep.  Bland  and  I 
carried  him  upstairs  to  a  bedroom  on  the  top  storey  of 
the  club.  There  were,  Bland  said,  three  bullets  buried 
in  the  mattress,  so  it  was  fortunate  that  we  had  not 
carried  Clithering  up  earlier  in  the  day. 

"  Let's  get  the  waiter,"  said  Bland,  "  if  he  hasn't 
gone  away,  and  tell  him  to  undress  this  fool ! " 

"  It's  hardly  necessary  to  undress  him,  is  it  ?  " 

"  Better  to,"  said  Bland,  "  and  take  away  his  clothes. 
Then  he'll  have  to  stay  there,  and  won't  be  able  to  send 
any  more  telegrams." 

"  It's  rather  a  good  thing  he  sent  that  last  one,"  I  said. 
"  If  he  hadn't,  somebody  would  certainly  have  been 
killed  in  the  charge." 

"  I  suppose  that  telegram  accounts  for  it,"  said 
Bland.  "  I  mean  for  the  behaviour  of  the  soldiers. 
Orders  sent  straight  from  Downing  Street.  I  say, 
what  a  frightful  temper  the  Commanding  Officer  must 
be  in  this  minute !  I  wonder  if  I  could  get  an  interview 
with  him." 

He  looked  questioningly  at  me.  I  fancy  he  hoped 
that  I  would  give  him  a  letter  of  introduction  to  the 
General  in  command  of  the  district. 

"  His  language,"  said  Bland,  "  would  be  a  tremen- 
dous scoop  for  me.  Could  you  —  ?  " 

"  No,"  I  said,  "  I  couldn't.  I  don't  know  him,  and 
even  if  I  did  — " 

"  Oh,  well,"  said  Bland,  "  it  can't  be  helped.  And, 
any  way,  I  dare  say  I  shouldn't  have  been  able  to  get  my 
telegram  through.  The  wires  are  sure  to  be  blocked." 


CHAPTER  XXII 

I  LOOKED   at  my   watch   and   found  that   it  was 
three  o'clock.     The  battle  had  lasted  more  than 
two  hours. 

"  I  had  no  idea,"  I  said  to  Bland,  "  that  fighting  was 
such  interesting  work.  The  time  has  flown." 

"  I'm  uncommonly  hungry,"  said  Bland.  "  Let's 
try  and  find  something  to  eat." 

When  he  mentioned  the  subject  of  eating  I  found 
that  I  too  was  very  hungry.  I  felt,  however,  that  it 
was  scarcely  right,  certainly  it  was  not  suitable  to  sit 
down  to  luncheon  in  a  club  while  a  revolution  was  in 
full  swing  under  the  windows.  People  ought  to  be 
serious  immediately  after  battles. 

"Oughtn't  we  to  be  doing  something?"  I  asked. 

"Doing  what?" 

"  Well,  I  don't  know.  Seeing  after  the  wounded, 
perhaps." 

Attending  to  wounded  men  is  properly  speaking 
work  for  women;  but  both  Lady  Moyne  and  Marion 
were  in  London. 

"  There  are  sure  to  be  a  few  somewhere,"  I  said. 
"  They've  been  fighting  all  over  the  town,  and  I  don't 
suppose  the  soldiers  were  as  careful  everywhere  else 
as  they  were  here." 

"  Are  you  a  surgeon  as  well  as  a  lord  ? "  asked 
Bland. 

"  Oh  no.  I  don't  know  anything  about  surgery. 
My  idea  — •" 

233 


234  THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER 

"  Then  I  expect  the  wounded,  if  there  are  any,  would 
rather  you  left  them  alone.  Besides,  a  town  like  this 
must  have  hundreds  of  doctors  in  it.  They'll  all  be 
out  after  the  wounded  by  this  time  as  keen  as  vul- 
tures. It  isn't  every  day  that  an  ordinary  practitioner 
gets  the  chance  of  gouging  out  bullets.  They  wouldn't 
let  you  interfere  with  their  sport  even  if  you  paid  them. 
There  won't,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  be  nearly  enough 
wounded  to  go  round  the  profession.  They'd  hate  to 
have  an  amateur  chipping  in.  Let's  forage  about  a  bit 
and  get  some  food." 

It  was  not  very  easy  to  find  food  in  the  club,  and  the 
only  surviving  waiter  was  still  undressing  Clithering. 
But  Bland  is  a  good  forager.  He  found  two  dressed 
crabs  somewhere,  and  then  came  upon  a  game  pie.  I 
let  him  have  the  dressed  crabs  all  to  himself.  He  is  a 
much  younger  man  than  I  am  and  is  a  war  corre- 
spondent. He  ought  to  be  able  to  digest  anything. 

I  fully  intended  to  eat  three  helpings  of  game  pie, 
for  I  was  very  hungry;  but  before  I  had  finished  the 
first  of  them  I  was  interrupted.  Crossan  stalked  into 
the  room.  He  was  the  last  man  I  wanted  to  see.  His 
appearance  and  manner  are,  at  the  best  of  times,  tragic. 
Clithering  had  been  with  me,  off  and  on,  most  of  the 
day,  so  I  had  got  rather  tired  of  tragedy. 

"  I  think  it  right  to  inform  your  lordship,"  said 
Crossan,  "  that  Mr.  Godfrey  D'Aubigny  has  just  been 
arrested  in  the  streets." 

"  Good ! "  I  said.  "  I  hope  that  whoever  has  him 
won't  let  him  go." 

"  He's  to  be  tried  by  court  martial,"  said  Crossan, 
"  on  suspicion  of  being  a  spy." 

Godfrey   actually   haunts   me.     No   sooner   have   I 


THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER  235 

achieved  a  moment's  peace  and  quietness  —  with  the 
greatest  difficulty  in  the  middle  of  a  rebellion  —  than 
Godfrey  breaks  in  on  me.  How  he  came  to  be  in  Bel- 
fast I  could  only  dimly  guess.  It  seemed  likely  that, 
having  heard  that  a  battle  was  going  on,  he  came  to 
the  scene  of  it  in  the  hope  of  pillage. 

"  I  suppose,"  I  said,  "  they  won't  actually  hang 
him?" 

"  It  was  him,  as  your  lordship  is  aware,"  said 
Crossan,  "  that  gave  the  first  information  to  the  Gov- 
ernment." 

Crossan,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  he  was  a  victorious 
general,  preserved  his  peculiar  kind  of  respect  for  my 
title.  He  did  not,  indeed,  take  off  his  hat  when  he  en- 
tered the  room,  but  that  was  only  because  soldiers, 
while  on  duty,  never  take  off  their  hats. 

"  Don't  be  absurd,  Crossan,"  I  said.  "  You  know 
perfectly  well  that  he  hasn't  intelligence  enough  to  give 
anything  but  wrong  information  to  any  Government. 
What  he  told  the  Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer  when  he 
wrote  to  him  was  that  you  were  smuggling." 

"If  your  lordship  doesn't  care  to  interfere  — ,"  said 
Crossan. 

"  Can  I  help  in  any  way  ?  "  said  Bland. 

He  had  been  eating  steadily  and  had  finished  the  two 
crabs.  I  had  not  eaten  more  than  three  or  four  mouth- 
fuls  of  game  pie.  I  felt  I  might  accept  his  offer. 

"If  you've  any  experience  of  courts  martial,"  I  said, 
"  I  haven't  —  and  if  you  really  don't  mind  trotting 
off—" 

"  Not  a  bit,"  said  Bland.  "  In  fact  a  court  martial 
would  be  rather  a  scoop  for  me.  I'm  sure  the  public 
would  want  to  know  how  it's  run." 


236  THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER 

"  I  shall  feel  greatly  obliged  to  you,"  I  said.  "  The 
fact  is  that  a  nephew  of  mine  is  going  to  be  hanged  as  a 
spy.  You  said  you  were  going  to  hang  him,  didn't  you, 
Crossan  ?  " 

"  I  think  it  likely,  my  lord,"  said  Crossan. 

"  Of  course,"  I  said,  "  he  richly  deserves  it ;  and  so 
far  as  my  own  personal  feelings  go  I  should  be  very 
glad  if  he  were  hanged.  But,  of  course,  he's  my 
nephew  and  people  might  think  I'd  been  unkind  to  him 
if  I  made  no  effort  to  save  him.  One  must  consider 
public  opinion  more  or  less.  So  if  you  could  arrange 
to  rescue  him — " 

While  I  was  speaking  Clithering  shambled  into  the 
room.  He  was  wearing  a  suit  of  pyjamas  not  nearly 
big  enough  for  him.  The  waiter  who  put  him  to  bed 
was  quite  a  small  man.  The  pyjamas  must  have  been 
his.  He  asked  us  to  find  his  clothes  for  him,  and  said 
that  he  wanted  to  go  to  the  post-office. 

"  I  must  send  a  telegram  to  the  Prime  Minister,"  he 
said.  "  I  must  send  it  at  once." 

Crossan  eyed  him  very  suspiciously. 

"  It  strikes  me,"  said  Bland,  "  that  if  you're  caught 
sending  telegrams  to  the  Prime  Minister  you'll  be 
hanged  too." 

"  They're  just  going  to  hang  a  nephew  of  mine,"  I 
explained,  "  for  writing  a  letter  to  the  Chancellor  of 
the  Exchequer.  You  can  see  for  yourself  that  a  tele- 
gram to  the  Prime  Minister  is  much  worse.  I  really 
think  you'd  better  stay  where  you  are." 

But  Clithering  was,  unfortunately,  in  a  mood  of  hys- 
terical heroism.  He  said  that  he  did  not  value  his  life, 
that  lives  were  only  given  to  men  in  order  that  they 


THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER  237 

might  lay  them  down,  and  that  the  noblest  way  of  lay- 
ing down  a  life  was  in  the  service  of  humanity. 

I  could  see  that  Crossan  was  getting  more  and  more 
suspicious  every  minute. 

"  It  is  in  order  to  save  the  lives  of  others,"  he  said, 
"  that  I  want  to  send  my  telegram  to  the  Prime  Minis- 
ter." 

Crossan  actually  scowled  at  Clithering.  I  expected 
that  he  would  arrest  him  at  once.  There  might  have 
been,  for  all  I  knew,  a  Committee  of  Public  Safety 
sitting  in  the  Town  Hall.  I  could  imagine  Crossan 
hauling  the  unfortunate  Clithering  before  it  on  a  charge 
of  communicating  with  the  Prime  Minister.  I  could 
imagine  Clithering,  heroic  to  the  last,  waving  his  in- 
criminating telegram  in  the  faces  of  his  judges.  Bland 
saved  the  situation. 

"  Come  along,  Colonel,"  he  said.  "  Show  me  where 
that  court  martial  of  yours  is  sitting.  Lord  Kilmore 
will  restrain  this  lunatic  till  we  get  back." 

Crossan  may  have  been  pleased  at  being  addressed 
as  Colonel.  Or  he  may  have  trusted  that  I  would  pre- 
vent any  telegram  being  sent  to  the  Prime  Minister. 
At  all  events,  he  stopped  scowling  at  Clithering  and 
went  off  with  Bland.  I  offered  Clithering  some  of  the 
game  pie,  but  he  refused  to  touch  it.  He  sat  down  at 
a  corner  of  the  table  and  asked  me  to  lend  him  a  pencil 
and  some  paper.  I  did  so,  and  he  composed  several 
long  telegrams.  The  writing  evidently  soothed  him. 
When  he  had  finished  he  asked  me  quite  calmly  whether 
I  thought  he  would  really  be  hanged  if  he  went  to  the 
post-office.  I  was  not  at  all  sure  that  he  would  not. 
Clithering  sighed  when  he  heard  my  opinion.  Then 


238  THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER 

he  sat  silent  for  a  long  time,  evidently  trying  to  make 
up  his  mind  to  the  hanging. 

"  If  I  could  get  the  telegram  through  first,"  he  said 
at  last,  "  I  shouldn't  so  much  mind  — " 

"  But  you  wouldn't,"  I  said ;  "  and  what  is  the  good 
of  throwing  away  your  life  without  accomplishing  any- 
thing?" 

"  It's  terrible,"  said  Clithering,  "  terrible." 

It  was  terrible,  of  course ;  but  I  was  beginning  to  get 
tired  of  Clithering.  Besides,  he  looked  very  ridicu- 
lous in  pyjamas  which  only  reached  halfway  down  his 
legs  and  arms. 

"Don't  you  think,"  I  said,  "that  it  would  be 
better  for  you  to  go  back  to  bed?  You'll  be  safe 
there,  and  it  won't  really  matter  much  whether  your 
telegram  goes  to  the  Prime  Minister  or  not.  A  little 
sleep  will  do  you  all  the  good  in  the  world." 

"  We  have  murdered  sleep,"  said  Clithering. 

I  never  realized  the  full  immensity  of  Clithering's 
fatuousness  until  he  uttered  that  mangled  quotation 
from  Macbeth  in  the  tone  of  an  old-fashioned  tragedian. 
I  believe  the  man  actually  revelled  in  harrowing  emo- 
tion. It  would  not  have  surprised  me  to  hear  him 
assure  me  that  the  "  multitudinous  seas  "  would  not 
wash  out  the  blood-stains  from  his  hands.  He  might 
very  well  have  asked  for  "  some  sweet  oblivious  anti- 
dote." If  he  had  known  the  passages  I  am  sure  he 
would  have  quoted  them. 

"  Do  go  to  bed,"  I  said. 

Then  Bland  came  in  leading  Godfrey  with  him. 

"  I  rescued  him,"  said  Bland,  "  without  very  much 
difficulty." 


THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER  239 

"  I  call  it  frightful  cheek,"  said  Godfrey,  "  fellows 
like  that  who  ought  to  be  touching  their  hats  to  me 
and  saying  '  Sir '  when  they  speak  to  me  —  Fancy 
them  daring — " 

This  view  of  the  matter  was  very  characteristic  of 
Godfrey.  I  really  believe  that  he  would  dislike  being 
hanged  much  less  if  the  executioner  were  one  of  the 
small  class  of  men  whom  he  recognizes  as  his  social 
equals. 

"  They  gave  him  quite  a  fair  trial,"  said  Bland,  "  and 
had  just  condemned  him  when — " 

"  That  fellow  Crossan  in  particular,"  said  Godfrey. 

"  The  Colonel  ran  round  to  tell  you,"  said  Bland.  "  I 
rather  fancy  they  wanted  to  get  off  carrying  out  the  sen- 
tence if  they  could." 

"  A  lot  of  fellows,"  said  Godfrey  sulkily,  "  who  ought 
to  be  wheeeling  barrows!  But  it's  very  largely  your 
fault,  Excellency.  You  always  encouraged  that  class. 
If  you'd  kept  them  in  their  proper  places  — " 

"  What  on  earth  brought  you  to  Belfast  ?  "  I  said. 
"Why  didn't  you  stay  at  home?  Nobody  wants  you 
here.  Why  did  you  come  ?  " 

Godfrey  looked  uneasily  at  Bland.  He  evidently  did 
not  want  to  make  his  reason  for  coming  to  Belfast 
public  property.  Godfrey  is  usually  quite  shameless. 
I  could  only  imagine  that  he  had  done  something  of  a 
peculiarly  repulsive  kind. 

"Well,"  I  said,  "why  did  you  come?" 

He  looked  at  Bland  again,  and  then  nodded  sideways 
at  me. 

"  I  suppose,"  I  said,  "  that  you  thought  there  might 
be  some  assessment  made  by  the  Government  of  the 


240          THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER 

amount  of  damage  done  in  the  town,  and  that  if  you 
started  valuing  things  at  once  on  your  own  hook,  you 
might  possibly  get  a  job  out  of  it." 

"  But  is  there  ? "  said  Godfrey  eagerly ;  "  for  if  there 
is—" 

"  So  far  as  I  know  there  isn't,"  I  said. 

"  Anyhow  it  wasn't  that  which  brought  me  to  Bel- 
fast. The  fact  is,  Excellency,  I  couldn't  very  well  stay 
at  home.  You  remember," — here  his  voice  sunk  to  a 
whisper  — "  what  I  told  you  about  the  Pringles." 

"  Your  bank  account  ?  " 

"No.  Not  that.  The  girl,  I  mean.  Tottie  Prin- 
gle." 

"  Oh  yes,  I  remember." 

"  Well,  old  Pringle  began  to  get  offensive.  He 
seemed  to  think  that  I  ought  to  —  you  know." 

"  Marry  her  ?     I  expect  you  ought." 

"Excellency?"  said  Godfrey  in  genuine  horror  and 
amazement, 

"  By  the  way,"  said  Bland,  "  I  forgot  to  mention  that 
I  promised  the  court  martial  to  get  your  nephew  out 
of  Belfast  before  to-morrow  morning.  I  hope  you  don't 
mind.  They  wouldn't  let  him  go  on  any  other  condi- 
tion." 

"Quite  right,"  I  said.  "Godfrey  shall  start  to- 
night." 

"  I  don't  see  why  I  should,"  said  Godfrey.  "  I  don't 
think  it's  at  all  nice  of  you,  Excellency,  to  — " 

"  And  while  we're  at  it,"  I  said,  "  we  may  as  well 
ship  off  dithering.  Godfrey  let  me  introduce  you 
to—" 

I  looked  round  and  discovered  that  dithering  was  not 
in  the  room. 


THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER  241 

"  I  hope  to  goodness,"  I  said,  "  that  he's  not  gone 
out  to  get  himself  hanged.  He  rather  wanted  to  a  few 
minutes  ago." 

"  It's  all  right,"  said  Bland.  "  I  saw  him  going  up- 
stairs. I  expect  he's  looking  for  his  clothes." 

"  Godfrey,"  I  said.  "  I'm  going  to  offer  you  a  great 
chance.  Sir  Samuel  dithering  is  in  every  way  a  very 
big  man.  In  the  first  place  he's  very  rich.  In  the  next 
place  he's  on  intimate  terms  with  the  Prime  Minister. 
In  fact  he's  been  sending  him  telegrams  every  hour  or 
so  for  the  last  two  days.  You  go  upstairs  and  help  him 
to  find  his  clothes.  Then  take  him  over  to  London. 
The  Fleetwood  steamer  is  still  running.  If  you  can 
get  him  out  of  Belfast  and  lay  him  down  safe  and 
sound  on  his  own  doorstep  the  Government  will  be  so 
grateful  that  they'll  very  likely  make  you  a  stipendiary 
magistrate." 

"  But  supposing  he  doesn't  want  to  go?  " 

"  You'll  have  to  make  him,"  I  said. 

"  How  ?  "  said  Godfrey.     "  How  can  I  ?  " 

"  Don't  be  a  fool,  Godfrey,"  I  said.  "  Nag  at  him. 
You've  got  more  than  two  hours  before  you,  and  nag- 
ging is  a  thing  you're  really  good  at." 

Bland  took  Godfrey  by  the  arm  and  led  him  up  to 
Clithering's  bedroom.  He  locked  them  in  together,  and 
did  not  open  the  door  again  until  half  an  hour  before 
the  steamer  started.  Then  he  took  up  Clithering's 
clothes  to  him.  Godfrey  had  evidently  spent  the  time 
as  I  advised,  dithering  deserved  it,  of  course ;  but  he 
certainly  looked  as  if  he  had  been  through  a  bad  time 
when  Bland  let  him  out. 

There  was  a  meeting  of  the  Ulster  Defence  Commit- 
tee at  seven  o'clock.  It  was  summoned,  so  the  notice 


242  THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER 

which  I  received  informed  me,  in  order  to  make  ar- 
rangements for  preserving  the  peace  of  the  town. 
This,  I  thought,  was  very  proper  work  for  the  com- 
mittee. The  Cabinet  was  probably  making  other  ar- 
rangements with  the  same  object.  Between  them  the 
committee  and  the  Government  had  destroyed  what  lit- 
tle peace  Belfast  ever  had.  The  least  they  could  do  was 
to  restore  it. 

Moyne  took  the  chair  as  usual.  He  opened  our  pro- 
ceedings by  saying  firmly  and  decisively,  that  he  in- 
tended to  surrender  himself  at  once  to  the  authorities. 

"  We're  the  only  authorities  there  are  at  present,"  said 
McNeice,  "  so  if  you  want  to  surrender  — 

"  We  must  resolve  ourselves  into  a  Provisional  Gov- 
ernment," said  the  Dean,  who  always  likes  to  do  things 
constitutionally. 

"  The  police,"  said  Moyne  feebly. 

"  There  aren't  any,"  said  McNeice. 

"  Wiped  out,"  said  Malcolmson. 

"  The  General  in  command  of  the  troops  — "  said 
Moyne. 

"  The  troops  are  shut  up  in  their  barracks,"  said  Mc- 
Neice. 

"  Licked,"  said  Malcolmson. 

"  Say,"  said  Conroy,  "  are  you  dead  sure  you  whipped 
them?" 

"  They  bolted,"  said  Malcolmson. 

"  I  don't  reckon  to  be  a  military  expert,"  said  Con- 
roy, "  but  it  kind  of  occurs  to  me  that  those  troops 
weren't  doing  all  they  knew.  I  don't  say  but  you're 
quite  right  to  boost  your  men  all  you  can ;  but  we'll 
make  a  big  mistake  if  we  start  figuring  on  having  de- 
feated the  British  army." 


THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER  243 

"  I  happen  to  know,"  I  said,  "  that  Mr.  Conroy  is 
quite  right,  dithering — " 

"  That  spaniel !  "  said  McNeice. 

"  He  told  me,"  I  said,  "  that  the  troops  had  orders  to 
fire  over  our  men's  heads.  The  idea,  I  think,  was  not 
so  much  to  injure  as  to  overawe  us." 

"  It  was  a  damned  foolish  idea,"  said  McNeice  sulk- 
ily. 

"  You  cannot,"  said  the  Dean,  "  overawe  the  men  of 
Ulster." 

This  is  one  of  the  Dean's  most  cherished  opinions. 
I  have  heard  him  express  it  a  great  many  times.  I 
do  not  know  whether  the  Dean  had  actually  been  fight- 
ing during  the  afternoon.  I  am  sure  he  wanted  to; 
but  he  may  have  considered  it  his  duty  to  do  no  more 
than  look  on.  Our  Dean  is  particularly  strong  on  Old 
Testament  history.  I  am  sure  he  recollected  that  Moses 
sat  on  the  top  of  an  adjacent  hill  while  Joshua  was  fight- 
ing the  Amalekites. 

"If  you  want  to  surrender  yourself,"  said  Conroy 
to  Moyne,  "  I  reckon  you'll  have  the  chance  of  handing 
yourself  over  to  a  British  Admiral  before  long." 

"  Have  you  any  reason  to  suppose  that  the  Fleet  —  ?  " 
said  Moyne. 

"  We're  ready  for  them,"  said  Malcolmson.  "  If  the 
Government  thinks  it  can  force  Home  Rule  on  Ulster 
with  the  guns  of  the  Channel  Fleet,  it's  making  a  big 
mistake.  It'll  find  that  out  before  long." 

"  If  you  like,  Lord  Moyne,"  said  Conroy,  "  we'll  put 
you  under  arrest  and  then  nobody  will  be  able  to  hold 
you  responsible  afterwards  for  anything  that  happens. 
You'll  be  quite  safe." 

Whatever  Moyne's  motives  may  have  been  in  wish- 


244  THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER 

ing  to  surrender  himself,  I  am  perfectly  sure  that  a 
desire  for  his  own  safety  was  not  one  of  them.  I 
imagine  that  he  hoped,  in  a  confused  and  troubled  way, 
to  get  himself  somehow  on  the  side  of  law  and  order 
again.  Moyne  was  never  meant  to  be  a  rebel. 

Conroy's  words  were  insulting,  intentionally  so,  I 
think.  He  wished  to  get  rid  of  Moyne  before  the  com- 
mittee discussed  the  defence  of  Belfast  against  the 
Fleet.  He  may  have  wished  to  get  rid  of  me  too.  He 
succeeded.  Moyne  is  not  nearly  so  thorough-going  a 
patrician  as  his  wife;  but  he  has  sufficient  class  pride 
to  dislike  being  insulted  by  a  millionaire.  He  got  up 
and  left  the  room.  He  looked  so  lonely  in  his  dignified 
retirement  that  I  felt  I  ought  to  give  him  such  support 
as  I  could.  I  rose  too,  took  his  arm,  and  went  out  with 
him. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

PEOPLE  who  organize  and  carry  through  revolu- 
tions generally  begin  by  cutting  the  telegraph 
wires,  with  a  view  to  isolating  the  scene  of  action.  I 
cannot  help  thinking  that  this  is  a  mistake.  We  kept 
our  telegraph  offices  open  day  and  night,  and  I  am 
strongly  of  opinion  that  we  gained  rather  than  lost 
by  our  departure  from  the  established  ritual  of  revolu- 
tions. The  news  which  came  to  us  from  England  was 
often  encouraging,  and  generally  of  some  value.  Nor 
do  I  think  that  the  Government  gained  any  advantage 
over  us  by  the  messages  which  Clithering  as  their  agent, 
or  Bland  and  others  in  their  capacity  of  public  enter- 
tainers, sent  from  Belfast  to  London. 

When  Moyne  and  I  got  back  to  our  hotel  we  found 
two  long  telegrams  and  one  short  one  waiting  for  us. 
The  first  we  opened  was  from  Lady  Moyne.  She  had, 
it  appeared,  spent  a  very  strenuous  day.  She  caught 
the  Prime  Minister  at  breakfast  in  his  own  house,  and 
probably  spoiled  his  appetite.  She  ran  other  members 
of  the  Cabinet  to  earth  at  various  times  during  the  day. 
One  unfortunate  man  she  found  playing  a  mixed  four- 
some on  a  suburban  golf  links.  She  impressed  upon 
him,  as  she  had  upon  all  his  colleagues  the  appalling 
wickedness  of  shooting  the  citizens  of  Belfast.  Every 
one,  it  appeared,  agreed  with  her  on  this  point.  The 
Government's  policy,  so  they  told  her  and  she  told  us, 
was  to  cow,  riot  to  kill,  the  misguided  people  who  were 

245 


246  THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER 

rioting  in  Belfast.  She  besought  Moyne  to  use  all  his 
influence  to  moderate  the  anti-Home  Rule  enthusiasm 
of  Malcolmson  and  the  Dean. 

Moyne  smiled  in  a  sickly  way  when  we  came  to  this 
advice. 

The  other  long  telegram  was  from  Babberly.  I  must 
say  that  Babberly  at  this  crisis  displayed  immense  en- 
ergy and  something  like  political  genius.  Having  been 
all  his  life  a  strong  Conservative,  and  a  supporter  of 
force  as  a  remedy  for  every  kind  of  social  unpleasant- 
ness, he  turned  a  most  effective  somersault  and  ap- 
pealed suddenly  to  the  anti-militarist  feelings  of  the 
Labour  Party.  He  succeeded  —  I  cannot  even  imagine 
how  —  in  organizing  a  mass  meeting  in  Trafalgar 
Square  to  protest  against  the  murder  of  the  working- 
men  of  Belfast  in  the  streets  of  their  own  city,  by  the 
hired  mercenaries  of  the  capitalist  classes.  The  meet- 
ing was  actually  engaged  in  making  its  protest  while 
Moyne  and  I  were  reading  the  telegrams.  Babberly's 
case  was  really  extraordinarily  strong.  Soldiers  were 
shooting  off  guns  in  Belfast,  and  the  people  they  fired 
at  —  or  as  we  knew,  fired  over  —  were  working-men. 
There  was  occasion  for  a  strong  and  eloquent  appeal 
to  the  sentiment  of  the  solidarity  of  labour.  Babberly 
was  just  the  man  to  make  it  with  the  utmost  possible 
effectiveness.  I  pictured  him  perched  on  the  head  of 
one  of  the  British  lions  which  give  its  quite  peculiar 
dignity  to  Trafalgar  Square,  beseeching  a  crowd  of 
confused  but  very  angry  men  not  to  allow  the  beast 
to  open  its  mouth  or  show  its  teeth.  I  could  easily 
imagine  that  the  news  of  Babberly's  exertions,  drib- 
bling in  during  the  day  to  the  offices  of  harassed  Min- 
isters, might  have  reinforced  with  grave  political  con- 


THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER  247 

siderations  the  hysterical  humanitarian  telegrams  which 
Clithering  was  shooting  off  from  the  seat  of  war.  A 
Tory  Government  might  survive  a  little  bloodshed.  A 
Liberal  Government  convicted  of  having  incited  a  sol- 
dier to  shoot  a  working-man  would  be  in  a  perilous  po- 
sition. 

"  I  must  say,"  I  said,  "  that  Babberly  is  infernally 
clever.  I  don't  quite  know  where  he'll  find  himself 
afterwards,  but  — 

"  What  does  it  matter  about  afterwards  ? "  said 
Moyne,  "  if  only  we  get  out  of  the  mess  we're  in,  noth- 
ing that  happens  afterwards  need  trouble  us  in  the 
least." 

"  If  this  meeting  of  his  is  really  a  success,"  I  said, 
"  we  may  feel  pretty  confident  that  there'll  be  no  more 
shooting  anyhow." 

The  next  telegram,  the  short  one,  rather  dashed  our 
hopes  of  immediate  peace.  It  was  from  Lady  Moyne. 

"  The  Channel  Fleet,"  she  said,  "  has  been  ordered 
to  Belfast  Lough.  Expected  to  arrive  to-morrow  morn- 
ing. Advise  unconditional  surrender." 

Moyne  is  very  fond  of  his  wife,  and  has  a  sincere  ad- 
miration for  her  abilities ;  but  on  the  receipt  of  this  tele- 
gram he  lost  his  temper. 

"  What  on  earth,"  he  said,  "  is  the  use  of  advising  un- 
conditional surrender  when  Conroy  and  Malcolmson  are 
engaged  at  this  moment  in  making  plans  for  sinking  the 
Fleet  with  rifles?" 

"  I  quite  agree  with  you,"  I  said.  "  There's  no  kind 
of  use  our  going  to  them  again.  But  I  don't  expect 
they're  relying  entirely  on  rifles.  Malcolmson  always 
said  he  understood  explosives.  He  may  be  laying  sub- 
marine mines  opposite  Carrickfergus." 


248  THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER 

Lady  Moyne's  telegram  was  not  the  only  warning  we 
received  of  the  approaching  visit  of  the  Channel  Fleet. 
Our  system  of  leaving  the  telegraph  wires  intact  proved 
to  be  an  excellent  one.  Everybody  in  Belfast  learnt  that 
the  Fleet  was  coming.  Everybody,  so  far  as  I  could 
learn,  received  the  news  with  joy.  Bland  was  tremend- 
ously excited.  He  called  on  me  next  morning,  and  in- 
vited me  to  go  with  him  to  see  the  British  Fleet  in  action. 
He  had  been  up  very  early  and  found  a  place,  so  he  said, 
from  which  we  could  have  a  capital  view  of  the  bom- 
bardment of  the  town. 

"  I've  got  two  pairs  of  field-glasses,"  he  said,  "  Zeiss 
prism  binoculars.  We'll  see  the  whole  show  capitally." 

"  Was  there  much  other  looting  last  night  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  There  was  none,"  said  Bland.  "  I  hired  the  glasses. 
I  got  them  for  five  shillings.  Cheap,  I  call  it;  but  the 
optician  who  owned  them  seemed  to  think  they'd  be 
safer  if  I  had  them  than  they  would  be  in  his  shop. 
More  out  of  the  way  of  shells,  I  expect." 

Moyne  refused  to  come  with  us.  He  still  cherished 
the  hope  of  being  able  to  surrender  himself  during  the 
day  to  some  one  in  recognizable  authority.  Bland  and 
I  set  out  together. 

We  hurried  along  High  Street,  past  the  Albert  Me- 
morial and  crossed  the  bridge  to  the  south  side  of  the 
river.  The  streets  were  full  of  volunteers,  marching 
about,  all  in  the  highest  spirits.  The  prospect  of  being 
shelled  by  the  Fleet  did  not  frighten  them  in  the  least. 
Having,  as  they  believed,  defeated  the  Army  the  day 
before,  it  seemed  quite  a  simple  matter  to  deal  with  the 
battleships. 

We  made  our  way  along  the  quays,  passed  through 
a  ship-building  yard,  deserted  by  its  workers,  and  came 


THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER  249 

to  a  long  muddy  embankment  which  stretched  out  on 
the  south  side  of  the  channel  leading  into  the  harbour. 
On  the  end  of  this  embankment  was  a  small  wooden 
lighthouse. 

"  That's  our  spot,"  said  Bland.  "  I've  got  the  key  of 
the  door." 

I  will  always  say  for  Bland  that  he  has  the  true  in- 
stinct of  a  war  correspondent.  From  the  top  of  our 
tower  we  saw  the  Fleet  far  out  in  the  offing.  There 
were  not  nearly  so  many  ships  as  I  expected.  I 
counted  seven;  disagreeable  looking  monsters  with 
smoke  pouring  out  of  their  funnels.  They  were  too 
far  off  for  us  to  see  much  of  them  even  with  the  aid 
of  our  excellent  glasses;  but  what  I  did  see  I  did  not 
like.  Fighting  against  men  requires  courage,  no  doubt, 
especially  when  they  have  magazine  rifles.  But  men 
are  after  all  flesh  and  blood.  Fighting  against  vast 
iron  machines  seems  to  me  a  much  more  terrifying 
thing.  I  wondered  whether  Malcolmson  were  also 
watching  the  ships  and  whether  he  were  any  more  in- 
clined than  he  had  been  the  night  before  to  uncondi- 
tional surrender. 

While  I  was  gazing  out  to  sea,  Bland  tapped  me  on 
the  arm  and  drew  my  attention  to  the  fact  that  a  com- 
pany of  volunteers  was  marching  out  along  our  muddy 
causeway.  They  were  Bob  Power's  men  and  they 
came  along  whistling  "  The  Protestant  Boys,"  a  tune 
which  makes  an  excellent  quick-step  march.  They  had 
spades  with  them  as  well  as  rifles,  and  they  set  to  work 
at  once  to  entrench  themselves. 

"  They're  going  to  dispute  a  landing,"  said  Bland, 
"  but  I  don't  see  what  use  that  is.  The  Fleet  can  shell 
the  whole  place  into  ruins  in  two  hours  without  com- 


250  THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER 

ing  within  range  of  their  rifles  —  and  —  however  we'll 
see.  The  fellow  who's  running  this  revolution  —  Con- 
roy,  isn't  it?  —  may  have  something  up  his  sleeve." 

One  of  the  battleships  detached  herself  from  her 
fellows  and  steamed  rapidly  into  the  Lough.  Oppo- 
site Carrickfergus  her  engines  were  stopped,  and  she 
turned  slowly  in  a  half  circle  till  she  lay  broadside  on 
to  us.  I  could  see  her  distinctly,  and  I  confess  that  the 
look  of  her  terrified  me. 

"  Geared  for  action,"  said  Bland. 

A  boat  was  lowered,  a  steam  launch.  In  a  minute  or 
two  she  was  speeding  towards  us,  her  white  ensign  trail- 
ing astern.  Bob  Power  stood  up  outside  his  entrench- 
ment and  peered  at  her.  As  she  drew  closer  we  could  see 
behind  the  shelter  hood,  the  young  officer  who  steered 
her.  As  she  swerved  this  way  and  that,  following  the 
windings  of  the  channel,  we  caught  glimpses  of  a  senior 
officer,  seated  in  the  stern  sheets.  Pushing  through  the 
calm  water  at  high  speed  she  threw  up  great  waves 
from  her  bows.  Her  stern  seemed  curiously  deep  in 
the  water.  When  she  was  almost  abreast  of  our  light- 
house Bob  hailed  her.  Her  engines  were  stopped  at 
once.  A  sailor  with  a  boathook  in  his  hand  sprang 
into  her  bow  and  stood  there  motionless  while  the 
boat  glided  on.  I  could  see  the  young  officer  who 
steered  gazing  curiously  at  Bob's  entrenchments.  Then 
the  senior  officer  stood  up. 

"  An  Admiral,"  said  Bland. 

He  hailed  Bob. 

"  Are  you  in  command  here?  "  he  said. 

As  he  spoke  the  launch  stopped  abreast  of  the  en- 
trenchments and  lay  motionless  in  the  water. 


THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER  251 

"  I  am  in  command  of  this  detachment,"  said  Bob. 

"  Then,"  said  the  Admiral,  "  you  are  to  lay  down 
your  arms  at  once." 

"  You'd  better  come  ashore,"  said  Bob,  "  and  see 
our  commanding  officer  if  you  want  to  make  terms 
with  us." 

The  Admiral  flushed.  He  was  quite  close  to  us  and 
we  could  see  his  face  distinctly.  He  looked  as  if  he 
wanted  to  say  something  explosive.  The  idea  of  being 
invited  to  make  terms  with  rebels  was  evidently  very 
objectionable  to  him.  I  suppose  he  must  have  had 
strict  and  binding  orders  from  somebody.  He  did  not 
say  any  of  the  things  he  wanted  to.  The  launch's  pro- 
peller gave  a  few  turns  in  the  water.  Then  the  boat 
slipped  up  to  the  shore.  The  sailor  with  the  boat- 
hook  held  her  fast  while  the  Admiral  stepped  out  of 
her.  Bob  received  him  most  courteously.  The  Ad- 
miral glared  at  Bob.  The  riflemen,  crouched  behind 
their  mud  bank,  scowled  at  the  Admiral.  The  young 
officer  in  the  launch  gave  an  order  and  his  boat  was 
pushed  off  from  the  shore.  Bob  and  the  Admiral 
walked  off  together  towards  the  town. 

For  an  hour  and  a  half  the  launch  lay  opposite  us  in 
the  middle  of  the  channel.  Occasionally,  as  the  ebbing 
tide  carried  her  down,  she  steamed  a  little  and  regained 
her  position  opposite  the  entrenchments.  Bob's  men, 
realizing  that  there  would  be  no  shooting  till  the  Ad- 
miral returned,  rose  from  their  trench.  They  strolled 
about  the  embankment,  chatted,  smoked,  stared  at  the 
launch,  stared  at  the  battleship  from  which  she  came, 
and  peered  at  the  more  distant  fleet  which  lay  hull  down 
far  out  towards  the  entrance  of  the  lough. 


252  THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER 

"  Unless  Mr.  Conroy  has  some  game  on  that  we  know 
nothing  about,"  said  Bland,  "  he'd  better  climb  down 
and  make  the  best  terms  he  can." 

I  think  that  Bland  was  nervous.  He  made  that  re- 
mark or  others  like  it  several  times  while  we  were  wait- 
ing for  the  Admiral's  return.  I  candidly  confess  that 
I  was  more  than  nervous.  I  was  desperately  fright- 
ened. I  am  not,  I  hope,  a  coward.  I  believe  that  I  was 
not  afraid  of  being  killed,  but  I  could  not  take  my  eyes 
off  the  great  iron  ship  which  lay  motionless,  without 
a  sign  of  life  about  her,  a  black,  menacing  monster  on 
the  calm  water  of  the  lough.  I  was  seized,  obsessed, 
with  a  sense  of  her  immense  power.  She  would  de- 
stroy and  slay  with  a  horrible,  unemotional,  scientific 
deliberation. 

"  Conroy  had  better  surrender,"  said  Bland.  "  He 
can't  expect  — 

"  He  won't  surrender,"  I  said ;  "  and  if  he  wanted  to, 
the  men  would  not  let  him." 

"  Damn  it,"  said  Bland.  "  He  must.  I've  seen  war, 
and  I  tell  you  he  must." 

At  last  the  Admiral  returned.  Bob  was  with  him, 
and  was  evidently  trying  to  make  himself  agreeable. 
He  was  chatting.  Occasionally  he  laughed.  The  Ad- 
miral was  entirely  unresponsive.  When  he  got  close 
enough  for  us  to  see  his  face  I  saw  that  he  looked  per- 
plexed and  miserable.  I  was  miserable  and  frightened, 
but  the  Admiral  looked  worse. 

Behind  them  there  was  an  immense  crowd  of  peo- 
ple; men,  armed  and  unarmed,  women,  even  children. 
It  was  a  mere  mob.  There  was  no  sign  of  discipline 
among  them.  Some  young  girls,  mill-workers  with 
shawls  over  their  heads,  pressed  close  on  the  Admiral's 


THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER  253 

heels.  Bob  gave  an  order  to  his  men,  and  they  drew  up 
across  the  end  of  our  embankment.  Bob  and  the  Ad- 
miral passed  through  the  line.  The  crowd  stopped. 

The  launch  drew  to  shore  again.  The  Admiral 
stepped  on  board  her,  and  she  steamed  away. 

The  crowd  hung  around  the  end  of  our  embankment. 
Some  children  began  chasing  each  other  in  and  out 
among  the  men  and  women.  A  few  girls  went  down  to 
the  water's  edge  and  threw  in  stones,  laughing  at  the 
splashes  they  made.  Then  a  young  man  found  an 
empty  bottle  and  flung  it  far  out  into  the  channel. 
Fifty  or  sixty  men  and  women  threw  stones  at  it,  laugh- 
ing when  shots  went  wide,  cheering  when  some  well- 
aimed  stone  set  the  bottle  rocking.  Further  back  from 
the  water's  edge  young  men  and  girls  were  romping 
with  each  other,  the  girls  crying  shrilly  and  laughing 
boisterously,  the  men  catching  them  round  their  waists 
or  by  their  arms.  It  might  have  been  a  crowd  out  for 
enjoyment  of  a  Bank  Holiday. 

The  launch  reached  the  battleship,  was  hoisted  and 
stowed  on  board.  Almost  immediately  a  long  line  of 
signal  flags  fluttered  from  the  squat  mast.  Smoke  be- 
gan to  pour  from  the  funnels.  The  flags  were  hauled 
down  and  another  festoon  of  them  was  hoisted  in  their 
place.  I  could  see  an  answering  stream  of  flags  flut- 
tering from  one  of  the  ships  further  out. 

Then,  very  slowly,  the  great  steamer  began  to  move. 
She  went  at  a  snail's  pace,  as  it  seemed  to  me,  across 
the  lough  to  the  County  Down  coast.  Very  slowly  she 
swept  round  in  a  wide  circle  and  steamed  back  again 
northward.  There  was  something  terrifying  in  the 
stately  deliberation  with  which  she  moved.  It  was  as 
if  some  great  beast  of  prey  paced  as  a  sentinel  in  front 


254  THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER 

of  his  victim,  so  conscious  of  his  power  to  seize  and  kill 
that  he  could  afford  to  wait  before  he  sprang. 

The  crowd  behind  us  was  silent  now.  The  laughter 
and  the  play  had  ceased.  Children  were  crowding 
round  the  women  seeking  for  hands  to  hold.  Some  of 
the  women,  vaguely  terror-stricken,  looked  into  the 
faces  of  the  men.  Others  had  drawn  a  little  apart 
from  the  rest  of  the  crowd  and  stood  in  a  group  by 
themselves,  staring  out  at  the  battleship.  There  were 
middle-aged  women  and  quite  young  women  in  this 
group.  I  raised  my  field-glasses  and  scanned  their 
faces.  There  was  one  expression  on  them,  and  only 
one  —  not  fear,  but  hatred.  Women  fight  sometimes 
in  citizen  armies  when  such  things  have  been  called 
into  existence.  But  it  is  not  their  fighting  power  which 
makes  them  important.  That  is,  probably,  always 
quite  inconsiderable.  What  makes  them  a  force  to  be 
reckoned  with  in  war  is  their  faculty  for  hating.  They 
hate  with  more  concentration  and  intensity  than  men 
do.  These  women  were  mindful,  perhaps,  of  the  girl 
with  the  baby  whom  dithering  had  seen  shot.  They 
realized,  perhaps,  the  menace  for  husbands,  lovers,  and 
sons  which  lay  in  the  guns  of  the  black  ironclad  pa- 
rading sluggishly  before  their  eyes.  Remembering  and 
anticipating  death,  they  hated  the  source  of  it  with 
uncompromising  bitterness.  The  men  in  the  crowd 
seemed  crushed  into  silence  by  mere  wonder  and  ex- 
pectation of  some  unknown  thing.  They  were  not,  so 
far  as  I  could  judge,  afraid.  They  were  not  excited. 
They  simply  waited  to  see  what  was  to  happen  to  them 
and  their  town. 

Once  more  a  string  of  flags  fluttered  from  the  ship's 
mast.  Once  more  the  answer  came  from  her  consorts. 


THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER  255 

Then  for  the  third  time  she  swept  round.  We  saw  her 
foreshortened ;  then  end  on ;  then  foreshortened  again 
as  her  other  side  swung  into  view.  At  that  moment  — 
just  before  the  whole  length  of  her  lay  flat  before 
our  eyes  she  fired.  At  first  I  scarcely  realized  that  she 
had  fired.  There  was  a  small  cloud  of  white  smoke 
hanging  over  her  near  the  bow.  That  was  all  for  the 
moment.  Then  came  the  horrible  sound  of  the  great 
projectile  racing  through  the  air.  Then  it  was  past. 

Some  women  in  the  crowd,  a  few,  shrieked  aloud. 
Some  girls  ran  wildly  towards  the  town,  driven,  I  sup- 
pose, to  seek  shelter  of  some  kind.  Most  of  the  crowd 
stood  silent'  Then  from  some  young  men  who  stood 
together  there  came  a  kind  of  moaning  sound.  It  gath- 
ered volume.  It,  as  it  were,  took  shape.  Voice  after 
voice  took  it  up.  The  whole  crowd  —  many  hundreds 
of  men  and  women  —  sang  together  the  hymn  they  had 
all  been  singing  for  months  past,  "  O  God,  our  help  in 
ages  past."  I  do  not  know  how  far  back  towards  the 
town  the  singing  spread,  but  it  would  not  surprise  me 
to  hear  that  ten  thousand  voices  joined  in  it. 

Bland  had  his  glasses  raised.  He  was  still  gazing  at 
the  battleship. 

"  A  strange  answer,"  I  said,  "  to  make  to  the  first  shell 
of  a  bombardment." 

"  Yes,"  said  Bland.  "  It  reminds  me  of  a  profane 
rhyme  which  I  used  to  hear: 

" '  There  was  a  young  lady  of  Zion 

Who  sang  Sunday-school  songs  to  a  lion.' 

But  hers,  I  should  say,  was  the  more  sensible  proceed- 
ing of  the  two." 

I  was  not  sure.     It  is  just  conceivable  —  it  seemed 


256  THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER 

to  me  at  that  moment  even  likely  —  that  a  hymn,  sung 
as  that  one  was,  may  be  the  most  effective  answer  to 
a  big  gun.  There  are  only  certain  things  which  guns 
can  do.  When  they  have  destroyed  life  and  ruined 
buildings  their  power  is  spent.  But  the  singing  of 
hymns  may,  and  sometimes  does,  render  men  for  a 
time  at  least,  indifferent  to  the  loss  of  their  lives  and 
the  ruin  of  their  houses.  Against  men  in  the  frame 
of  mind  which  hymn-singing  induces  the  biggest  guns 
are  powerless.  The  original  singers  fall,  perhaps,  but 
the  spirit  of  their  singing  survives.  For  each  voice 
silenced  by  the  bursting  shells  ten  voices  take  up  the 
song. 

The  battleship,  after  firing  the  gun,  swung  round 
and  once  more  slowly  steamed  across  the  lough.  I 
waited,  tense  with  excitement,  for  her  to  turn  again. 
At  the  next  turn,  I  felt  sure,  another  shell  would  come. 
I  was  wrong.  She  turned,  more  slowly  than  ever  as 
it  seemed.  No  white  smoke  issued  from  her.  Again 
she  steamed  northwards.  Again,  opposite  Carrickfer- 
gus,  close  to  the  northern  shore,  she  turned.  Right  in 
front  of  her  bows  the  water  was  suddenly  broken.  It 
was  as  if  some  one  had  dropped  a  huge  stone  close  to 
her.  The  spray  of  the  splash  must  have  fallen  on  her 
fore  deck. 

"My  God!"  said  Bland,  "they're  firing  at  her. 
Look !  From  the  hill  above  the  town." 

I  could  not  look.  My  eyes  were  on  the  ship  as  she 
slowly  turned.  Her  side  came  gradually  into  view. 
Then,  quite  suddenly  and  for  no  apparent  reason,  she 
staggered.  I  saw  her  list  over  heavily,  right  herself 
again,  and  steam  on. 

"  Hit !  "  said  Bland.     "  Hit !    Hit !  " 


THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER  257 

He  danced  beside  me  with  excitement. 

Two  puffs  of  smoke  hung  over  the  ship's  decks,  one 
forward,  one  aft,  and  blew  clear  again.  But  this  time 
we  heard  no  shrieking  shells.  She  was  firing,  not  at 
the  town,  but  at  the  guns  on  the  hill  which  threatened 
and  wounded  her.  Then  her  signal  flags  ran  up  again. 
Before  the  answer  came  from  the  other  ships  the  sea 
was  broken  twice  close  to  her.  I  looked  to  see  her 
stagger  from  another  blow,  heel  over,  perhaps  sink. 
Her  speed  increased.  In  a  minute  she  was  rushing  to- 
wards us,  flinging  white  waves  from  her  great  bows. 
Then  she  swept  round  once  more.  Fire  as  well  as 
smoke  poured  from  her  funnels.  She  steamed  east- 
wards down  the  lough.  We  saw  her  join  the  other 
ships  far  out.  She  and  they  lay  motionless  together. 

The  crowd  behind  us  began  to  sing  their  hymn 
again. 

Bland  and  I  left  our  lighthouse  and  went  back  to- 
wards the  town.  We  passed  Bob  and  his  men  in  their 
trench  but  they  scarcely  noticed  us.  We  pushed  our 
way  through  the  crowd.  We  passed  the  ship-building 
yard,  now  full  of  eager  people,  discussing  the  departure 
of  the  ship,  canvassing  the  possibility  of  her  coming 
back  again. 

"  What  guns  have  they  on  the  Cave  Hill  ?  "  said  Bland. 

"  I  don't  know,"  I  said.  "  I  did  not  know  that  they 
had  any  guns." 

"  I  wonder  where  they  got  them,"  said  Bland.  "  I 
wonder  who  has  command  of  them." 

I  could  answer,  or  thought  I  could  answer,  both  ques- 
tions. As  we  struggled  through  the  crowds  which 
thronged  the  quay  I  told  Bland  of  the  visits  of  the 
Finola  to  our  bay  and  of  the  piles  of  huge  packing- 


258  THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER 

cases  which  Godfrey  had  shown  me  in  the  sheds  behind 
the  store. 

"But  who  fired  them?"  said  Bland.  "Who  have 
you  got  who  understands  them?  Those  were  big 
guns." 

"  Malcolmson,"  I  said,  "  always  said  he  understood 
guns." 

"  He  does,"  said  Bland.  "  If  he'd  shot  just  the  least 
shade  better  he'd  have  sunk  that  ship." 

On  the  bridge  we  met  McConkey,  sweating  pro- 
fusely, taking  his  favourite  weapon  along  at  a  rapid 
trot.  He  stopped  when  he  saw  us  and  halted  his  breath- 
less team. 

"  I  have  her  working  again,"  he  said,  "  and  she'll 
shoot  the  now." 

"  You're  too  late,"  said  Bland. 

"  Is  she  sunken  ?  "  said  McConkey.  "  Man  o'  man 
but  I'm  sorry  for  it.  I  wanted  sore  to  have  a  shot  at 
her." 

"  She's  not  sunk,"  said  Bland,  "  but  she's  gone. 
Steamed  clean  out  of  range  of  your  gun." 

"  I'd  have  liked  well  to  have  got  to  her  before  she 
quit,"  said  McConkey.  "  Did  you  hear  tell  what  she 
did  with  that  shell  she  fired  into  the  town  ?  " 

"  No,"  I  said.     "  Did  it  kill  many  people?  " 

"  Sorra  the  one,"  said  McConkey.  "  But  I'll  tell  you 
what  it  did  do."  His  voice  sank  to  a  hoarse  but  singu- 
larly impressive  whisper.  "  It  made  flitters  of  the  statue 
of  the  old  Queen  that  was  sitting  fornint  the  City  Hall. 
The  like  of  thon  is  nice  work  for  men  that's  wearing 
the  King's  uniform." 

Bland  burst  into  a  sudden  fit  of  boisterous  laughter. 

"  You  may  laugh  if  it  pleases  you,"  said  McConkey, 


THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER  259 

"  but  I'm  thinking  it's  time  for  loyal  men  to  be  getting 
guns  of  their  own  when  the  Government  is  that  thick 
with  rebels  and  Papishes  that  they'd  go  shooting  at  the 
ould  Queen  who  was  always  a  decent  woman,  so  she 
was,  and  too  good  for  the  like  of  them." 

McConkey's  story  was  perfectly  true.  The  solitary 
shell  which  was  fired  into  Belfast  fell  just  outside  the 
City  Hall.  It  injured  that  building  a  good  deal;  and 
it  entirely  destroyed  the  statue  of  Queen  Victoria. 
It  is  a  curious  evidence  of  the  amazing  loyalty  of  the 
people  of  Belfast  that  many  of  them  were  more  angry 
at  this  insult  to  Majesty  than  they  would  have  been  if 
the  shell  had  killed  half  a  dozen  volunteers.  McCon- 
key  was  not  by  any  means  the  only  man  who  saw  in 
the  accident  evidence  of  an  unholy  alliance  between 
the  Liberal  Government  and  the  men  whom  Babberly 
was  accustomed  to  describe  as  "  Steeped  to  the  lips  in 
treason." 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

BLAND  and  I  stood  together  outside  the  City  Hall 
and  surveyed  the  shattered  fragments  of  the 
statue.  The  shell  must  have  exploded  quite  close  to 
it,  and  I  was  immensely  impressed  at  first  with  the  ter- 
rific power  of  modern  artillery.  Then  I  began  to  think 
about  the  moral  effects  of  the  bombardment,  and  I  saw 
my  way  to  helping  Bland  in  his  profession.  He  had 
been  very  kind  to  me  and  very  helpful.  I  wanted  to  do 
him  a  good  turn  if  I  could. 

"  This,"  I  said,  "  is  a  magnificent  opportunity  for  you. 
You'll  be  able  to  send  off  a  telegram  to  your  newspaper 
which  will  make  your  fortune  as  a  correspondent." 

"  I  don't  see  that,"  said  Bland.  "  If  there'd  been  a 
little  slaughter  I  might  have  made  something  out  of  it. 
But  a  statue!  Hang  it  all!  One  statue  is  rather  a 
poor  bag  for  the  British  Fleet.  The  people  are  proud 
of  their  navy.  They've  spent  a  lot  of  money  on  it,  and 
they  won't  like  being  told  that  it  has  hit  nothing  but  a 
statue,  after  a  long  morning's  shooting." 

Bland  had  not  grasped  my  idea.  For  a  moment  I 
was  inclined  to  keep  it  for  my  own  use  and  work  it  up 
into  an  article  when  I  got  time.  But  Bland  deserved 
something  from  me.  I  resisted  the  temptation  and  gave 
him  the  idea. 

"  I  wish,"  I  said,  "  that  I  were  a  special  correspondent. 
I'd—" 

"  Well,"  said  Bland.     "  What  would  you  say?  " 
260 


THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER  261 

"  I  should  take  that  New  Zealander  who  stood  on  the 
broken  arch  of  Westminster  Bridge  and  — " 

"  Macaulay's,"  said  Bland.  "  I  don't  think  that  the 
public  would  stand  him  again.  He's  played  out." 

"  Not  in  the  way  I  mean  to  use  him.  I  should,  so  to 
speak,  spiritualize  him,  and  — 

"  Hold  on  a  minute,"  said  Bland. 

He  got  out  a  note-book  and  a  pencil  and  prepared  to 
write. 

"  Now,"  he  said,  "  go  on." 

Eland's  expectant  attitude,  and  the  fact  that  he  was 
evidently  going  to  take  down  what  I  said  in  shorthand, 
embarrassed  me.  When  I  write  essays  I  like  to  work 
deliberately  and  to  correct  carefully.  I  aim  at  a  pol- 
ished elegance  of  style.  I  do  not  care  for  the  kind  of 
offhand  composition  Bland  asked  for. 

" '  Interview  with  a  Revolutionary  Peer,' "  said 
Bland,  "  '  Lord  Kilmore  on  the  Ulster  Situation.'  You 
were  just  going  to  say — " 

"  Oh,  nothing  much.  Only  that  the  feelings  of  that 
New  Zealander — " 

"  Meditating  on  the  ruins  of  a  shattered  civilization," 
said  Bland.  "  I  can  put  in  that  part  myself." 

" — Are  nothing  to  yours — "  I  said. 

"  Yours"  said  Bland. 

"  Well,  mine,  if  this  must  be  an  interview ;  but  I'd 
rather  you  had  the  whole  credit.  — Are  nothing  to 
mine  when  I  survey  the  vacant  pedestal  of  that  statue. 
You  catch  the  idea  now?" 

"  No,"  said  Bland.     "  I  don't.     Is  there  one?  " 

"  Yes,  there  is.  These  unrecognizable  fragments  of 
stone,  the  once  majestic  statue,  Ulster's  loyalty." 

"  Good,"  said  Bland.     "  I  have  it  now."     He  began 


262 

to  write  rapidly.  "  '  To  the  thoughtful  mind  there  was 
something  infinitely  tragic  in  the  shattered  statue  of  the 
great  queen,  symbol  of  the  destruction  of  an  ideal. 
England  bought  the  friendship  of  Nationalist  Ireland 
at  a  heavy  price  when  the  guns  of  her  Fleet  annihi- 
lated the  loyalty  of  Ulster.'  That's  your  idea." 

"  You've  got  it  exactly,"  I  said. 

"  I'll  send  it  off  at  once." 

"  Yes.  You'd  better  hurry.  It's  almost  certain  to 
occur  to  Babberly,  and  the  moment  it  does  he'll  put  it 
into  a  speech.  If  he  does,  the  whole  credit  will  go  to 
him." 

This  impressed  Bland.  He  hurried  away  towards 
the  post-office.  I  felt  that  I  was  not  likely  to  get  any- 
thing more  out  of  the  statue.  I  put  a  small  bit  of  it  in 
my  pocket  to  keep  as  a  souvenir,  and  then  strolled 
along  Donegall  Place. 

I  met  Crossan,  who  saluted  me  gravely. 

"  The  provisional  Government,"  he  said,  "  desires 
your  lordship's  presence  in  the  City  Hall." 

"  I'm  glad  there's  a  provisional  Government,"  I  said. 
"  We  want  something  of  the  sort.  Do  you  happen  to 
know  if  I'm  a  member  of  it?" 

"  I've  been  looking  for  you,  my  lord,"  said  Crossan, 
severely,  "  for  over  an  hour,  and  there's  no  time  to 
waste." 

I  hurried  off.  The  Government,  after  driving  off 
the  British  Fleet,  was  likely  to  be  in  a  good  temper, 
but  I  did  not  wish  to  keep  it  waiting  for  me  too  long. 

When  I  entered  the  room  I  found  Conroy,  McNeice, 
Malcolmson,  Cahoon  and  the  Dean  seated  at  the  table. 
Moyne  was  not  there. 

"  I  congratulate  you,  gentlemen,"  I  said,  "  on  the  re- 


THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER  263 

suit  of  the  naval  engagement.  Malcolmson  was  per- 
fectly magnificent.  It  was  you,  wasn't  it,  who  —  ?" 

"  I  didn't  see  anything  magnificent  about  it,"  said 
Malcolmson,  sulkily. 

"  We're  damned  well  sick  of  being  played  with,"  said 
McNeice. 

"  If  the  English  Government  means  to  fight  us  — " 
said  the  Dean,  speaking  explosively. 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say,"  I  said,  "  that  you  think  the 
Admiral  was  not  in  earnest  in  that  bombardment  ?  " 

"  No  more  than  the  soldiers  were  yesterday,"  said 
McNeice.  "  They  fired  over  our  heads." 

"  And  we're  not  going  to  stand  any  more  fooling," 
said  Malcolmson. 

"  We're  business  men,"  said  Cahoon,  "  and  this  sort 
of  play-acting  won't  do  for  Belfast." 

"  Your  boss  politicians,"  said  Conroy,  "  have  been 
flooding  us  out  with  telegrams." 

There  was  a  large  pile  of  telegrams  in  front  of  him 
and  some  forty  or  fifty  loose  sheets  of  flimsy  yellow 
paper  were  scattered  about  the  table. 

"  Their  notion,"  said  Conroy,  "  is  that  we  should 
send  a  man  over  to  negotiate." 

"  An  ambassador,"  I  said,  "  Plenipotentiary  ?  " 

"  Lord  Moyne  won't  go,"  said  the  Dean. 

"  He's  the  proper  man,"  I  said.  "  Let's  try  to  per- 
suade him." 

"  He's  up  at  the  barracks,"  said  McNeice.  "  He's 
been  there  all  morning  trying  to  get  the  General  to  ar- 
rest him." 

"  It  would  be  far  better,"  I  said,  "  if  he  went  to 
London  and  handed  himself  over  to  the  Prime  Minis- 
ter." 


264  THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER 

"  European  convention,"  said  Conroy,  "  makes  it  nec- 
essary, so  I  am  informed,  that  this  particular  kind  of 
job  should  be  done  by  a  member  of  your  aristocracy." 

I  was,  I  think,  with  the  exception  of  Moyne,  the 
only  member  of  the  House  of  Lords  in  Belfast  at  the 
moment.  The  committee  had  evidently  fixed  on  me  as 
an  ambassador. 

"  There  is,"  I  said,  "  a  tradition  that  the  Diplomatic 
Service  should  be  —  but  our  circumstances  are  so  very 
peculiar  —  I  am  not  sure  that  we  ought  to  feel 
bound  — " 

"  Will  you  go?  "  said  Conroy. 

"  Of  course,  I'll  go,"  I  said.  "  There's  nothing  I 
should  like  better." 

"  The  Finola  is  lying  off  Bangor,"  said  Conroy.  "  I'll 
run  you  and  Power  down  there  in  my  motor.  He'll 
land  you  wherever  you  like." 

"  Good,"  I  said.  "  I  suppose  I'll  go  in  my  shirt  with 
a  rope  round  my  neck,  like  the  burghers  of  Calais." 

"  If  that's  the  regular  costume,"  said  Conroy. 

He  spoke  so  severely  that  I  thought  I  had  better  drop 
the  subject  of  clothes. 

"Now,  as  to  the  terms  which  you  are  prepared  to 
offer  the  Government,"  I  said. 

"  We  will  not  have  Home  Rule,"  said  the  Dean  and 
Malcolmson  together. 

"  Of  course  not,"  I  said.  "  That  will  be  understood 
at  once.  Shall  I  demand  Mr.  Redmond's  head  on  a 
charger?  I  don't  suppose  you  want  it,  but  it's  always 
well  to  ask  for  more  than  you  mean  to  take.  It  gives 
the  other  side  a  chance  of  negotiating." 

"  All  we  ask,"  said  McNeice,  "  is  that  the  English 
clear  out  of  this  country,  bag  and  baggage,  soldiers, 


THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER  265 

policemen,  tax  collectors,  the  whole  infernal  crew,  and 
leave  us  free  hand  to  clean  up  the  mess  they've  been 
making  for  the  last  hundred  years." 

"  Either  that,"  said  Malcolmson,  "  or  fight  us  in  ear- 
nest." 

"They'll  clear  out,  of  course,"  I  said.  "If  it's  a 
choice  between  that  and  fighting.  But  what  about  gov- 
erning the  country  afterwards  ?  " 

"  We'll  do  that,"  said  Conroy,  "  and  if  we  can't  do  it 
better  than  they  did — " 

"  Oh,  you  will,"  I  said.  "  Anyhow,  you  can't  do  it 
worse.  But  —  there's  just  one  point  more.  What 
about  the  Lord  Lieutenant?  " 

"  I  don't  know  that  he  matters  any,"  said  Conroy. 

"  He  doesn't,"  I  said,  "  not  a  bit.  But  he's  there  at 
present,  and  some  arrangement  will  have  to  be  made 
about  him." 

"If  the  Dublin  people  like  airing  their  best  clothes 
before  an  imitation  king,"  said  Cahoon,  "  let  them.  It 
won't  matter  to  us." 

This  showed  me  that  Cahoon,  at  least,  has  a  states- 
man's mind.  In  unessential  matters  he  is  ready  to  yield 
to  the  sentiments  of  his  inferiors. 

"  I  understand  then,"  I  said,  "  that  the  Lord  Lieuten- 
ant with  the  purely  ornamental  part  of  the  Viceregal 
staff  is  to  be  allowed  to  remain  on  the  condition  that 
he  gives  —  shall  we  say  eight  balls  and  eight  dinner- 
parties every  year  ?  —  and  that  every  other  Englishman 
leaves  the  country  at  once.  Those  are  your  terms." 

"  And  no  more  talk  about  Home  Rule,"  said  the  Dean 
firmly. 

"  Very  well,"  I  said,  "  I'll  start  at  once." 

Bob  Power  was  waiting  for  me  in  Conroy's  motor 


266  THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER 

when  I  had  packed  my  bag.  The  streets  were  very 
crowded  as  we  drove  through  them,  and  the  people 
cheered  us  tremendously.  It  was  the  first  time  I  had 
ever  been  cheered,  and  I  found  the  sensation  agreea- 
ble. Besides  cheering,  the  crowd  sang  a  great  deal. 
Some  one  had  composed  a  song  especially  for  the  occa- 
sion, which  had  caught  the  fancy  of  the  Belfast  peo- 
ple, and  spread  among  them  with  wonderful  rapidity. 
The  tune,  I  am  told,  dates  from  the  days  of  the  eight- 
eenth-century volunteer  movement. 

"Do  you  think  I'm  a  fool 

To  put  up  with  Home  Rule? 
For  I'm  not,  as  you'll  quickly  discover,  discover. 
For  soldier  and  rebel 
I'm  equally  able ; 
I'll  neither  have  one  nor  the  t'other,  the  t'other." 

As  poetry  this  is  scarcely  equal  to  Dr.  Isaac  Watts' 
version  of  the  ninetieth  of  David's  psalms.  The 
rhyme  of  "  rebel  "  with  "  able  "  is  defective,  and  "  dis- 
cover "  and  "  other  "  jar  rather  badly ;  but  poets  of  high 
reputation  have  done  worse  in  times  of  patriotic  ex- 
citement, and  the  thing  expressed  the  feelings  of  the 
Belfast  people  with  perfect  accuracy.  A  better  poet 
might  very  well  have  failed  to  understand  them. 

Bob  and  I  made  the  sea-passage  as  short  as  possible 
by  steaming  to  Port  Patrick.  I  spent  an  anxious  half- 
hour  while  we  passed  through  the  squadron  of  war- 
ships. Bob  assured  me  that  they  would  not  do  anything 
to  us.  When  I  complained  that  they  had  a  trucu- 
lent and  angry  look  about  them  he  said  that  that  was 
nothing  out  of  the  common.  All  warships  look  trucu- 
lent. I  dare  say  they  do.  Warfare  has  become  much 


THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER  367 

more  civilized  and  scientific  than  it  used  to  be ;  but  we 
cannot  any  of  us  afford  as  yet  to  neglect  the  wisdom  of 
the  mediaeval  Chinese.  They  wore  masks  in  order  to 
terrify  their  foes.  Our  battleships  are  evidently  de- 
signed with  the  same  object. 

I  reached  London  next  morning,  and  at  once  sent 
word  to  the  Prime  Minister  that  I  was  ready  to  make 
a  treaty  with  him.  He  sent  Sir  Samuel  Clithering  to 
act  as  an  intermediary.  We  met  in  the  library  of  Moyne 
House,  which  was  neutral  ground.  Lady  Moyne  had 
been  one  of  the  original  syndicate  which,  so  to  speak, 
placed  our  insurrection  on  the  market.  Her  house  was 
therefore  friendly  soil  for  me.  She  had  afterwards  dis- 
associated herself,  more  or  less,  from  Conroy  and  Mc- 
Neice;  while  Moyne  had  been  trying  for  two  days  to 
surrender  himself.  The  Prime  Minister's  ambassador 
could  therefore  go  to  Moyne  House  without  loss  of 
dignity. 

Clithering  brought  my  nephew  Godfrey  with  him. 

"  Mr.  D'Aubigny,"  he  said,  "  is  acting  for  the  present 
as  one  of  my  private  secretaries." 

Clithering  is  a  man  who  accumulates  private  sec- 
retaries rapidly.  It  would  not  have  surprised  me  to 
hear  that  he  had  a  dozen. 

"  I  brought  him,"  Clithering  went  on,  "  to  take  notes 
of  our  conversation.  I  thought  that  you  would  prefer 
him  to  a  stranger." 

I  should  very  much  have  preferred  the  young  man 
from  Toynbee  Hall  who  escorted  Marion  to  the  ca- 
thedral. I  should,  in  fact,  have  preferred  any  other 
private  secretary.  But  I  had  not  the  heart  to  say 
so.  The  experience  of  the  last  few  days  had  softened 
me,  and  Godfrey  looked  immensely  pleased  with  him- 


268  THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER 

self.  He  had  on  a  new  frock  coat,  beautifully  cut, 
and  a  pair  of  trousers  of  an  exquisite  shade  of  grey. 
He  also  had  a  pale  mauve  tie  with  a  pearl  pin  in  it. 

dithering  began  rather  pompously.  I  dare  say  he 
really  thought  that  he  was  in  a  position  to  dictate 
terms. 

"  I  hope,"  he  said,  "  I  sincerely  hope  that  you  fully 
realize  the  extraordinary  forbearance  with  which  the 
Government  has  treated  this  —  this  — 

"  Don't  say  rebellion,"  I  said ;  "  we're  thoroughly 
loyal  men  and  always  have  been." 

dithering  hesitated.  He  wanted  to  say  rebellion, 
but  he  remembered  that  he  was  engaged  in  a  game  of 
diplomacy. 

"  This  emeute,"  he  said  at  last. 

French  is,  after  all,  a  greater  language  than  Eng- 
lish. I  could  not  object  to  emeute.  I  should  have 
objected  to  any  English  description  of  our  rising. 

"  We  might,"  said  Clithering,  "  have  shot  the  people 
down.  We  might  have  bombarded  the  town.  I  am 
sure  that  you  realize  that." 

"  We  realize  it,"  I  said,  "  but  we  don't  altogether 
appreciate  it.  In  fact,  we  feel  that  your  way  of  con- 
ducting the  war  has  been  rather  insulting  to  us." 

"  You  don't  mean  to  say,"  said  Clithering,  "  that  you 
really  wanted  us  —  to  —  to  shoot  in  earnest  ?  " 

"  We  did.  In  fact  one  of  the  alternatives  which  I 
am  empowered  to  offer  you  — " 

"  Offer  us !  But  we  —  we  are  —  I  mean  to  say  that 
the  terms  of  settlement  must,  of  course,  be  dictated  by 
us." 

"  Not  at  all,"  I  said.  "  Godfrey,  you  can't  write 
shorthand,  I  know;  but  you  must  try  and  take  down 


THE  RED  HAND  OF'  ULSTER          269 

what  I'm  going  to  say  now  as  accurately  as  possible. 
I'll  speak  quite  slowly.  The  Government  —  I  mean, 
of  course,  so  far  as  Ulster  is  concerned,  the  late  Gov- 
ernment—  your  Government  —  must  either  conduct 
the  war  in  a  proper  business-like  way  —  have  you  got 
that  down,  Godfrey  ?  " 

"  Do  you  mean,"  said  dithering,  "  that  you  want 
us  —  ?" 

"  I  mean,"  I  said,  "  that  we  have  put  our  money 
into  it.  Conroy,  in  particular,  has  spent  huge  sums 
on  cannons.  We  are  determined  to  have  a  show  of 
some  sort.  Your  Government  must  therefore  either 
agree  to  fight  properly  and  not  keep  running  away 
every  time  we  get  a  shot  in,  or — " 

"  Yes,"  said  Clithering,  "  go  on." 

"  I'm  waiting,"  I  said,  "  till  Godfrey  gets  that  writ- 
ten down.  Have  you  finished,  Godfrey?  Very  well. 
Or  —  now  take  this  down  carefully  —  you  English 
clear  out  of  Ireland  altogether,  every  man  of  you,  ex- 
cept — " 

"  But  —  but  —  but  — "  said  Clithering. 

"  And  leave  us  to  manage  Ireland  ourselves.  Got 
that,  Godfrey?" 

"  But,"  said  Clithering;  "but — I  thought  you  didn't 
want  Home  Rule." 

"  We  don't.     We  won't  have  it  at  any  price." 

"  But  that  is  Home  Rule  of  the  most  extreme  kind." 

"  There's  no  use  splitting  hairs,"  I  said,  "  or  dis- 
cussing finicking  points  of  political  nomenclature. 
The  point  for  you  to  grasp  is  that  those  are  our  terms." 

"  Will  you  excuse  me  ?  "  said  Clithering.  "  This  is 
all  rather  surprising.  May  I  call  up  the  Prime  Min- 
ister on  the  telephone  ?  " 


270  THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER 

"  Certainly,"  I  said.  "  I'm  in  no  hurry.  But  be 
sure  you  put  it  to  him  distinctly.  I  don't  want  to 
have  any  misunderstanding." 

There  was  no  telephone  in  the  library  of  Moyne 
House,  dithering  had  to  ring  for  a  servant  who  led 
him  off  to  another  room.  Godfrey  seized  the  oppor- 
tunity of  his  absence  to  confide  in  me. 

"  Poor  old  Clithering  is  a  bit  of  a  bounder,"  he  said. 
"  Makes  stockings,  you  know,  Excellency.  And  Lady 
Clithering  is  a  fat  vulgarian.  It's  all  she  can  do  to 
pick  up  her  aitches.  I  shouldn't  think  of  stopping  in 
their  house  if  — " 

"  If  any  one  else  would  give  you  food  and  pocket 
money." 

"  There's  that,  of  course,"  said  Godfrey.  "  But 
what  I  was  thinking  of  is  the  daughter.  There  is  a 
daughter  and  she  ought  to  have  a  tidy  little  pile.  Now 
do  you  think  it  would  be  worth  my  while  to  marry 
into  a  family  like  that  for  forty  thou.  ?  Clithering 
ought  to  run  to  forty  thou.,  with  the  title  in  sight.  I 
wonder  if  you  would  mind  sounding  him,  Excel- 
lency?" 

"  At  present,"  I  said,  "  I'm  arranging  about  the  fate 
of  Belfast,  which  is  rather  an  important  matter  in  some 
ways.  But  — " 

Godfrey  did  not  seem  to  care  much  about  the  fate  of 
Belfast. 

"  I  suppose,"  he  said,  "  that  it  really  is  settled  about 
Marion  and  that  fellow  Power." 

"  Quite,"  I  said ;  "  they're  to  be  married  at  once." 

"  Then  I  think,  Excellency,  if  you  don't  mind  speak- 
ing to  old  Clithering  —  I  wouldn't  like  to  commit  my- 
self until  I  was  pretty  sure  of  the  money.  There's 


THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER          271 

only  one  daughter,  so  he  can  hardly  offer  less  than 
forty  thou." 

I  fully  intended  to  tell  Godfrey  what  I  thought  of 
him;  but  words  were  not  easy  to  find.  I  was  still 
searching  for  a  noun  to  go  along  with  "  damnable  " 
when  Clithering  came  back.  He  seemed  greatly  ex- 
cited. 

"  The  Prime  Minister,0  he  blurted  out,  "  is  quite 
ready —  He  says  he  has  no  objection —  In  fact  it's 
what  we've  been  trying  to  do  all  along.  Our  Home 
Rule  Bill  was  simply  an  attempt — ' 

"  Do  try  to  be  coherent,"  I  said.  "  What  did  the 
Prime  Minister  say?  " 

"  He  said  we'd  leave  Ireland  with  the  greatest  pleas- 
ure," said  Qithering. 

"Is  that  all?" 

Something  in  the  way  Clithering  spoke  made  me 
think  the  Prime  Minister  must  have  said  more  than 
that. 

"  He  added,"  said  Clithering,  "  that—" 

Then  he  paused  nervously. 

"  Out  with  it,"  I  said.  "  It's  far  better  to  have  no 
secrets.  Godfrey,  take  down  the  Prime  Minister's 
words." 

"  He  added,"  said  Clithering,  "  that  there  is  only  one 
thing  which  would  please  him  better  than  to  see  the 
back  of  the  last  Irishman  leaving  Westminster,  and 
that  is—" 

"  Go  on,"  I  said. 

"  To  hear  that  at  the  end  of  three  weeks  you'd  all 
torn  each  other  to  pieces,  and  that  there  was  nothing 
but  a  lot  of  trouser  buttons  left  to  show  that  Ireland 
had  ever  been  an  inhabited  country.  Of  course  he 


272  THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER 

didn't  mean  it.  If  there  was  the  least  chance  of  any 
internecine  strife  our  conscience  would  not  allow  us  — 
after  all  we  have  a  duty,  as  Englishmen  —  but  there's; 
no  risk  of  bloodshed,  is  there,  Lord  Kilmore  ?  " 

"  Not  the  slightest.  I  may  take  it  then  that  your 
Government  agrees  to  our  terms.  You  cart  away  your 
army  and  all  your  officials,  except  the  Lord  Lieutenant. 
We  want  him.  He's  to  give  parties  for  the  Dublin 
doctors  and  the  smaller  landed  gentry." 

"  But  about  his  salary,"  said  dithering.  "  Is  that  to 
be  an  Imperial  charge,  or  are  you  —  ?  " 

"  I  forgot  to  ask  about  that,"  I  said,  "  but  if  there's 
any  difficulty  I  expect  Conroy  will  agree  to  pay  it.  It's 
not  much,  is  it  ?  " 

"  I'm  not  sure  of  the  exact  figure ;  but  I  know  it's 
never  supposed  to  be  enough." 

"  I've  no  actual  authority  for  saying  so,"  I  said,  "  but 
I  expect  we'll  want  to  do  the  thing  decently  if  we  do  it 
at  all.  Cahoon  has  the  mind  of  a  statesman,  and  in 
his  opinion  something  will  have  to  be  done  to  soothe 
the  Dublin  public.  A  first-rate  Vice-Regal  establish- 
ment was  his  idea.  However,  we  needn't  go  into 
details.  The  main  thing  is  that  we  want  a  Lord  Lieu- 
tenant. If  your  Government  undertakes  to  supply  suit- 
able men  from  time  to  time  I  think  I  may  promise  that 
we'll  find  the  money.  Write  that  down,  Godfrey." 

"  When  you  speak  of  the  English  clearing  out  of  Ire- 
land," said  Clithering,  "  and  leaving  you  the  country  to 
yourselves,  you  don't  of  course  mean  absolute  fiscal 
independence." 

"  We  do,"  I  said. 

"  You  can't  mean  that,"  said  Clithering.     "  It's  cost- 


THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER  273 

ing  us  nearly  two  millions  a  year  to  run  the  country,  and 
if  that's  withdrawn  you  will  go  bankrupt." 

"  What  McNeice  said,"  I  replied,  "  was  that  you  were 
to  clear  out,  bag,  baggage,  soldiers,  police,  tax-collectors, 
and  the  whole  — " 

"  Tax-collectors !  "  said  Clithering.    "  I'm  not  sure  — " 

"  Didn't  your  Prime  Minister  say  he'd  be  glad  to  get 
rid  of  us?  What's  the  use  of  your  arguing  on  about 
every  little  point  ?  " 

"  But,"  said  Clithering,  "  the  collection  of  the  rev- 
enue! Between  ourselves  now,  Lord  Kilmore,  do  you 
think  there  would  be  any  risk  of  your  imposing  a 
tariff  on  — " 

"  Certain  to,"  I  said.  "  It  will  be  one  of  the  first 
things  we  do." 

"  We  can't  agree  to  that,"  said  Clithering.  "  Free 
Trade  is  a  principle,  a  sacred  principle  with  us.  You 
can't  expect —  We  are  a  Free  Trade  Government. 
Our  consciences  — " 

"  Very  well,"  I  said.  "  Go  on  with  the  war.  Bom- 
bard Belfast.  Kill  another  woman.  Smash  the  Albert 
Memorial  with  a  shell." 

"  Our  consciences  — "  said  Clithering. 

"  Your  consciences,"  I  said,  "  will  have  to  let  you  do 
one  thing  or  the  other." 

"  Now  take  my  own  case,"  said  Clithering.  "  I  am 
interested,  deeply  interested,  in  hosiery.  We  do  a  big 
business  in  stockings." 

Godfrey  winced.  I  do  not  wonder.  The  future 
Lady  Kilmore  must,  of  course,  wear  stockings,  but  it  is 
not  pleasant  for  Godfrey  to  think  of  her  supply  coming 
straight  from  the  paternal  factory. 


274          THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER 

"  The  Irish  trade,"  said  dithering,  "  is  not  among  the 
most  remunerative,  but  — " 

"  We  can  only  afford  to  wear  the  cheaper  sorts,"  I 
said ;  "  and  a  great  many  of  us  can't  buy  any  at  all. 
I  don't  think  you  need  bother  about  the  Irish  trade." 

"  Still,  it  is  substantial.  Now,  a  hostile  tariff  —  or  a 
bounty  on  Balbriggan — ' 

"  You'll  have  to  establish  a  factory  in  Ireland,"  I 
said,  "  and  dodge  the  tariff.  Tipperary  now.  Labour 
is  comparatively  cheap,  and —  After  all,  it's  a  choice 
between  that  and  letting  the  Fleet  loose  at  Belfast 
again." 

Clithering  thought  this  over.  I  think  tke  idea  of 
cheap  labour  in  Tipperary  cheered  him  up.  When  he 
next  spoke  it  was  in  a  most  friendly  tone. 

"  I  hope,"  he  said,  "  that  the  shells  which  were 
fired—" 

"  There  was  only  one,"  I  said. 

"  I  heard  that  no  lives  were  lost,"  said  Clithering. 
"  I  hope  that  the  damage  done  to  property  was  not 
serious." 

"  One  statue,"  I  said,  "  was  smashed  to  bits." 

"  I'm  very  sorry,  very  sorry  indeed.  Now  I  wonder 
if  you  would  allow  me  —  I  mean  if  the  people  of  Bel- 
fast would  allow  me  —  as  a  personal  expression  of  the 
warm  feeling  of  friendliness  I've  always  felt  for  the 
Irish  people,  all  the  Irish  people  —  I  wonder  if  I  might 
offer  to  replace  the  statue.  I  should  esteem  it  an 
honour." 

"  It  was  a  very  large  statue,"  I  said,  "  and  must  have 
cost  — " 

"  Oh,  I  should  not  allow  considerations  of  money  to 
stand  in  my  way." 


THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER  275 

This  was  handsome.  I  looked  at  Godfrey  to  see  how 
he  liked  to  hear  his  future  wife's  dowry  being  frittered 
away  on  statues.  I  could  see  that  he  was  anything  but 
pleased. 

"  I  shall  convey  your  offer,"  I  said,  "  to  the  people  of 
Belfast.  They  may  not  want  that  exact  statue  again. 
We're  not  quite  as  keen  on  Kings  and  Queens  as  we 
were.  But  I  feel  quite  sure  something  symbolic  would 
appeal  to  us  strongly.  What  would  you  think  now  of 
Ulster  as  an  infant  Hercules  strangling  a  snake  repre- 
senting Home  Rule?  Any  good  sculptor  would  knock 
off  something  of  that  sort  for  you ;  about  twelve  feet  by 
nine  feet,  not  counting  the  pedestal.  By  the  way,  did 
we  do  much  damage  to  your  ship  ?  The  one  Malcolm- 
son  hit  with  his  cannon  ball  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  dithering.  "  I  did  not  hear 
any  details." 

"Because,"  I  said,  "if  she  is  injured  in  any  way  — 
But  perhaps  she  was  insured?  " 

"  I  don't  think  men-of-war  are  insured." 

"  Well,  they  ought  to  be.  But  if  that  one  wasn't  I'm 
sure  we'd  like  to  make  good  any  damage  we  did.  Con- 
roy  has  lots  of  money,  and  he'd  be  sorry  if  the  English 
people  were  put  to  any  expense  in  repairing  a  battle- 
ship we  injured." 

I  am  not  a  practised  ambassador,  but  I  have  always 
understood  that  diplomacy  is  a  trade  in  which  politeness 
pays.  I  was  not  going  to  be  outdone  by  Clithering. 
When  he  offered  Belfast  a  new  statue  I  could  hardly  do 
less  than  promise  that  Conroy  would  mend  the  ship.  I 
was  very  glad  afterwards  that  I  thought  of  it.  Clither- 
ing was  tremendously  pleased,  and  made  me  quite  a 
long  speech.  He  said  that  he  looked  upon  my  offer  as 


276  THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER 

a  kind  of  first-fruit  of  the  new  spirit  of  amity  which 
was  coming  into  existence  between  England  and  Ire- 
land. 

This  ended  our  negotiations  to  the  satisfaction  of 
every  one  concerned. 

Lady  Moyne  returned  at  once  to  Castle  Affey  and 
spent  the  summer  in  planning  new  ways  of  keeping  the 
insurgent  industrial  democracy  from  invading  the  rights 
and  privileges  of  the  propertied  classes.  Last  time  I 
dined  there  she  explained  to  me  a  scheme  for  develop- 
ing the  Boy  Scout  movement,  which  would,  she  thought, 
distract  the  attention  of  the  public  and  push  social 
questions  into  the  background.  Babberly  escaped  hav- 
ing to  address  a  labour  meeting  in  Newcastle-on-Tyne. 
He  had  promised  to  do  this,  but  there  was  no  necessity 
for  him  to  keep  his  promise  once  the  troops  were  with- 
drawn from  Belfast.  He  returned  to  his  duties  in  Par- 
liament, and,  as  I  gathered  from  the  papers,  harassed 
the  Government  successfully  all  through  the  autumn 
session.  The  Dean  and  Crossan  played  their  hymn 
tune  on  our  church  bells  every  day  for  a  fortnight. 
They  still  —  and  I  am  writing  several  months  after  the 
new  Irish  Government  has  been  firmly  established  — 
congratulate  each  other  on  the  way  in  which  the  third 
Home  Rule  Bill  was  defeated  by  the  unfaltering  atti- 
tude of  the  Ulster  Loyalists. 

Godfrey,  I  regret  to  say,  failed  to  marry  Miss  dith- 
ering. She  took  a  violent  dislike  to  him  after  he  had 
spent  three  weeks  in  her  father's  house.  Not  even  the 
prospect  of  becoming  Lady  Kilmore  would  reconcile 
her  to  the  marriage.  I  am  therefore  still  responsible 
for  his  mr  intenance. 

I  have,  unfortunately,  been  obliged  to  give  up  writing 


THE  RED  HAND  OF  ULSTER  277 

my  "  History  of  Irish  Rebellions."  I  do  not  understand 
Marion's  system  of  filing,  and  I  cannot  find  any  of  the 
papers  I  want.  I  cannot  get  Marion  to  explain  things 
to  me,  or  to  take  any  trouble  to  help  me.  Since  she 
married  Bob  Power  she  has  lost  all  interest  in  my  lit- 
erary work. 


THE  END 


